


Sticks and Skates

by kbana14



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Earp Curse (Wynonna Earp), F/F, Hockey AU, Hockey Player Nicole Haught, No Revenants (Wynonna Earp), Wayhaught - Freeform, Wynonna Earp & Nicole Haught Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 152,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26774896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbana14/pseuds/kbana14
Summary: A new hockey team moves into town and it's a Devil of a time for all involved.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 129
Kudos: 588





	1. There's a (New) Sheriff in Town

**_PURGATORY GAZETTE_ **

** SPORTS ** **: BLUE DEVILS MAKE MOVE FROM VANCOUVER TO PURGATORY**

**Story By Jeremy Chetri**

_After years of struggle, the Vancouver Blue Devils of the Canadian Elite Women’s Hockey League (CEWHL) have moved to Purgatory. The deal was officially finalized just over eight months ago, when local millionaire Bunny Loblaw purchased the club when its previous ownership cut ties with the franchise. Loblaw has tabbed Xavier Dolls as the team’s GM. Dolls will also serve as Director of Hockey Operations for the team, which will play at the town’s oldest arena, The Wyatt Earp Memorial Coliseum._

_Despite the team’s past struggles, new head coach, Purgatory hockey legend Randy Nedley has high hopes. “It’s an opportunity for a complete turnaround,” says Nedley, “a fresh start for the girls.” Coach Nedley, better known by his nickname “The Sheriff”, says he expects a lot from his team, but knows that success is earned in this league, not given. With the team finishing at the bottom of the league table for each of the last six seasons, it appears that the team can only go up from here._

_The Devils’ most prominent player is Shae Pressman, who finished second in the league in scoring a season ago, with 42 goals and 31 assists, for 73 points. The right winger accounted for nearly eighty percent of the team’s point production a season ago. This year’s draft class looks promising according to Nedley, who notes the franchise’s focus on playmakers and scorers. Among these newcomers is this year’s number one overall pick, Jenna Boardman, the star left winger who played last year for the Minnesota Golden Gophers (NCAA)._

_Purgatory will get its first look at women’s professional hockey when the Blue Devils play their first game outside of Vancouver against the Victoria Tigers in three weeks. Tickets are available now and the first game will be broadcast on GRTV, Tuesday, October 8 at 7:00 pm._

“Whatcha readin’ there babygirl?” Wynonna asked, grabbing the newspaper from her sister’s hands.

“Hey!” Waverly grumbled at the loss of her reading material. “I was reading Jeremy’s article.”

Furrowing her brow and reading the paper, Wynonna scoffed.

“This new team has been such a pain in the ass. As if we needed more to do around this shithole.”

“Would you quit your whining? This is your _job_ , and a professional team has _got_ to be better than cleaning up after snot-nosed kids at public skate.” Waverly chastised playfully.

“Yeah, but we still have to do that on top of running the rink for the team.” Wynonna rolled her eyes sitting on the counter in front of the ticket window. “ _And_ , you forgot wrangling the demons after Wednesday night beer league.”

“Well, I for one, think that the pro team will be fun. And just what this town needs.” Waverly wasn’t fazed as Wynonna scoffed skeptically, and she continued, “New publicity, more revenue for the town, all the local businesses will benefit…”

“More drunk hockey fans ransacking the town, taking over the motel and overcrowding Shorty’s. _No thank you_.”

Waverly rolled her eyes at her sister and mouthed her a _so grumpy_ as Wynonna left to find some way to shirk her rink responsibilities, no doubt.

Today was the first day in town for the new club, so the public skate that would normally be going now was cancelled, and the Blue Devils were scheduled to practice shortly. Waverly knew that Wynonna had been in charge of stocking the locker room with towels and making sure water bottles were filled for the team today. Waverly hadn’t been assigned to anything team related today, but was currently in charge of making sure all the rental skates had been cleaned, disinfected, and properly organized in their cubbies. After practice, she’d empty the bins around the rink and then be in charge of supervising the public skate later on tonight.

Their duties around the rink mostly rotated between her, Wynonna, Robin and Champ, though the latter was hardly ever assigned to do anything but drive the Zamboni. Waverly was truly fond of her boyfriend, but she didn’t disagree that he left a lot to desire in the responsibility department.

“Waverly Earp,” she heard as a voice interrupted her organizing. The gruff, but kind voice belonged to one Randy Nedley.

“Sheriff.” She smiled and tipped an imaginary cowboy hat, earning a hearty chuckle from the mustached man in front of her. “Excited for the new season?”

“Glad I have a real excuse to pull the skates out again. Chrissy isn’t too keen on skating. Not sure where I went wrong with that one.”

Waverly chuckled at Nedley’s comment, knowing the girl on skates was comparable to Bambi learning how to walk.

“Have you met any of the girls yet or is this gonna be like the first day at camp for them?”

“I’ve met a good fair few of them. We’ve had a couple meetings with the captains, Pressman, Saunders, Wilson plus a few others. I think the only ones I haven’t met are the rookies. I’m excited though. Just hope that they’re ready to work.”

“Are you trading your Sheriff title for Drill Sergeant?”

Nedley laughed.

“No, not anything like that…as long as they don’t push me to it.”

The coach checked his watch and upon noticing the time excused himself up to his office to finalize his practice plans and get himself ready.

Returning to her own job, Waverly smiled to herself with excitement. Hockey season’s rapid approach meant that fall and winter were just as close and that meant snow and hockey games and Christmas. She couldn’t wait. And she hoped that the added publicity for the town would add more to the seasonal cheer.

She had put the last pair of skates in their place when she noticed Wynonna leaving the team locker room with a large, empty laundry basket.

“Dude, you will not _believe_ the amount of money they pumped into upgrading the locker room. It looks like _MTV Cribs_ in there.”

Waverly nodded, making a mental note to check it out later, seeing as most of the team was now filing through the doors.

“I gotta go drop this off in the laundry room, come on.” Wynonna said, as she dragged Waverly in that direction.

“You know,” Waverly grumbled at the sudden and involuntary removal from her post, “you’re a big girl Wynonna, I doubt you need a buddy to go to the laundry room.”

Wynonna rolled her eyes, but continued anyway.

“Yeah, I know that, but the new team doctor and trainers are here and I’m nosey. Team doc’s got this _crazy_ mustache. I just wanna pop in and say hi."

“Why does that involve me? I have a _job_ I’m supposed to be doing.”

Wynonna didn’t answer and kept dragging her sister along.

It had been like that their entire lives, really. Wynonna had always been the one to drag her baby sister into adventures, though Waverly had always managed to avoid trouble, unlike Wynonna who’d had more than her fair share of scrapes and run-ins with the law.

The two skidded to a halt in front of the training room door.

Inside there was a man (who Waverly had to agree, did have a _crazy_ mustache like Wynonna said), as well as two other women. The man seemed to notice the girls first and walked over to greet them.

“How may I be of assistance?” He said with an old-timey twang in his voice. He tipped the brim of the cowboy hat he was wearing toward them.

“Just in the neighborhood, headed down to the laundry.” Wynonna answered. “Figured we should introduce ourselves. Wynonna Earp.”

“Of Wyatt Earp fame, no doubt?”

“The one and only. Great-great-grandpappy.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintances Wynonna,” he answered, extending his hand, which Wynonna shook. “And you are?”

“Waverly. My sister.” Wynonna answered for her.

“Lovely to meet the lovely Earp sisters then. My name is John Henry Holliday.”

“Like Wyatt’s best friend?” Waverly asked, a bit amused at the coincidence.

“It would appear that way.” John Henry agreed. “Though most people call me Doc, on account of my occupation.”

Wynonna tried to hide an amused smirk, but this was Wynonna, and she hadn’t really ever been known to hold back snarkiness.

“Of all the places and all the jobs, John Henry Holliday becomes a doctor and works for a team that bears Wyatt Earp’s name. It’s like kismet. Perfect, really.”

“Yes ma’am.” Doc shared in Wynonna’s amusement. By now, the other two women had joined the conversation. “These lovely ladies are my colleagues, whom I will allow to introduce themselves.”

The trainers beside Doc introduced themselves as Kate (the taller and darker of the two) and Rosita (who reminded Waverly of the Mexican women in the old Westerns she’d watch with Uncle Curtis before he passed).

They spoke for a moment longer before a few of the players came in to get treatment before practice, the Earp sisters seeing themselves out politely.

“Okay, is it just me or could every single one of those girls kick the shit out of me?” Wynonna asked in awe of the athletes they saw enter the training room.

Waverly could only nod in agreement, sharing her sister’s awe for the strong-armed women. She’d always felt small, because well, she was, but seeing those girls only intensified that.

“Probably a prerequisite to be a professional athlete.” She shrugged.

“You know, I could’ve been a professional athlete if—”

“—if you hadn’t gone to juvie the third time?” Waverly joked, no malice in her tone at all.

Wynonna laughed with her sister and waved off the comment.

“Yeah, that time was a misunderstanding though.”

Waverly sent her a disapproving look before heading back upstairs to her post in the ticket office. She’d have a few hours to herself before practice got out and she’d have more responsibilities to fulfill. She loved her job, but she always looked forward to her free time. Today, she’d especially been looking forward to cracking open the ancient Greek history book Curtis had left to her that she hadn’t gotten to yet.

Once returned to the office, she grabbed her water bottle and headed over to the water fountain to fill the metal container before finally sitting down and pulling the book she’d been dying to read from out of the cabinet beneath the desk.

She loved this. There was something about being at the rink that was magical to her, but really, her happy place was anywhere she could learn something new. Engrossed in the words of the past, a new language, some obscure mythology…it didn’t matter, it kept her attention all the same.

Unfortunately, just as quickly as she had dived into the new book, she was interrupted, just as rudely as she had been with the newspaper earlier.

_God, she could kill Wynonna for interrupting her aga—_

“Babe. Come on, we’ve got some free time, we should uhh… _you know_.”

Of course it was Champ. All muscles and tattoos and boyish idiocy. All suggestive eyebrows and nefarious implications in the workplace. Damn it all to hell if he wasn’t cute though.

“I don’t know Champ.” Waverly sighed, not really in the mood. She had just gotten into a really interesting part of the chapter and wanted to continue into that.

“Come on.” Champ persisted, now burrowing his face into Waverly’s neck, pressing kisses at the base of her ear.

“No, baby. Not now.” She wiggled away, really hoping Champ would get the message. And thankfully, he did. She was grateful for that, although she didn’t miss the disgruntled murmuring of _“You’re never in the mood anymore_ ” as he walked away.

Waverly returned to her book, using the ambient sounds of Nedley’s whistles and pucks hitting the boards in the background to settle her back down after her mild annoyance with her boyfriend.

After she had bookmarked her page after chapter three, Waverly had put her book away and checked her watch. If on schedule, the Devils’ practice should be ending, and the sounds of the bench doors opening confirmed that.

Waverly now had to empty the bins by the doors of the seating area and bring the water bottles the team used down to the training room for cleaning.

Entering the main part of the arena, she took the lids off the bins and started to change the bags out. It wasn’t glorious, but it had to be done.

Indistinct chatter came and went, picking up especially when the players had started filing out of the locker rooms after changing, half heading toward Doc, Rosita and Kate, and the others heading out from the rink for the day.

Opening the bench doors, Waverly spotted the bottles that the team had used during practice, placed neatly in the caddy they had come in. In fact, the whole bench had been tidied up, towels and stick tape rolls picked up and brought to the locker room with them. At least these gals were respectful. Waverly shuddered at the thought of the state of these benches after beer league nights.

There were four caddies, each holding six bottles. If she were Champ (or Wynonna), she’d take two of the caddies at a time and make two trips to the training room—wasting time was a favorite hobby of theirs—but she was neither of them, and stubborn at that and decided to take all the bottles at once.

She had managed to get out from the benches with the caddies stacked awkwardly and balancing precariously on top of each other, making it as far as a few steps past the locker room door before she was served the consequences of her determination to make only one trip.

The top bottle caddy had started to teeter and in her attempts to rebalance the awkwardly shaped tower, the whole thing came crashing down on her and the tops of a few bottles came loose, soaking the whole front of her shirt. If Wynonna were here, she’d laugh her head off.

Waverly groaned and started to bend down to pick up the mess.

“I didn’t know the rink had wet t-shirt competitions.”

She froze at the voice, considering it hadn’t belonged to Wynonna, Robin or Champ. She was mildly mortified at the thought anyone had seen her mishap.

“Uh…yeah.” She tried to laugh it off, however awkwardly it was. Looking up she saw a flash of braided red hair and brown eyes, bag slung over her shoulder and two sticks in hand. The girl—woman—had to be about her age, maybe a year or so older if Waverly had to guess. “These bottles, I need to let them know they might be faulty.”

The girl had dropped her sticks and bag, coming to help Waverly clean up. Bottles returned to their caddies, Waverly sent her a grateful smile.

“Thank you. Guess that’s what I get for trying to take them all in one go.”

“Let me help then. Down to the training room, right?”

“Uh yeah,” Waverly nodded, “but if you’re heading out, I can do it, really. It’s my job.”

“No, by all means. I normally avoid the training room like the plague, but I can’t let you spill on yourself again.” The girl flashed a dimpled smile, and showed off perfectly white teeth.

It was a relatively short walk to return the bottles, but she was grateful for the help nonetheless. As they entered the training room, the girls getting ice baths and rolling out on the training room tables booed as their teammate ducked out without doing so, causing Waverly to quirk a brow at her in confusion.

“What was that about?” She asked the redhead as they walked back out to the main area.

“Like I said, I hate the training room, always have. So, unless I’m dying, I won’t go in there. The other girls basically live in there. Like they hang out in there and they’re like best friends with Rosita and Kate. Doc likes to act all grumpy with them, but he’s friendly too. At least that’s the dynamic I’ve gotten so far.”

“So far?”

“Yeah, I’ve only been with the team for a couple days. Haven’t _loved_ the hazing, but I love the team.”

“You’re the new girl, huh? Where’d you play before?”

“Just drafted from college in Edmonton this year.”

“So, it’s the whole _welcome to the team, rookie_ deal?” Waverly asked, not understanding much of the team dynamic, but gathering it couldn’t be too dissimilar from Champ’s experience on the hockey team when they were in high school.

“Yup.” The other girl nodded her confirmation.

The reason for their conversation had made a reappearance into Waverly’s consciousness when she shivered from the combination of the low temperature of the arena and the wetness on her shirt. She silently cursed herself for not bringing a spare long-sleeved shirt or her jacket that she usually wore to supervise public skate. It was going to be a long, cold night at work. She shivered again at the thought.

“Hey, you’re shivering.” The redheaded girl pointed out to her. _I hadn’t even realized_ , Waverly thought to herself. The comment seemed like it was adding insult to injury until she saw the hockey player bend down to reach into her bag. “Here. Take this.”

She had pulled out a navy-blue hoodie with the Devils’ logo on it. If she had _anything_ else, or wasn’t working on the ice, Waverly would’ve refused politely, but she didn’t really have a choice, now did she?

“Uh, thank you. For this, and for helping me pick up the mess.” Waverly said as she accepted the garment, suddenly hyper-aware of the blush forming on her cheeks. “I’ll uh…wash it and give it back to you tomorrow.”

“Alright.” The other girl nodded with her infectious smile that lit up her big brown eyes. “See you tomorrow then.”

She picked up her duffel and sticks and made her way to the door, waving goodbye to Waverly, who had put on the hoodie.

“Hey! I never got your name.” Coming to a realization, Waverly called out. Her sweatshirt donor turned around to face her. Then, for a reason she couldn’t name, she added, “How will I know who to look for to return this to?”

It was a stupid addition. Waverly doubted there was anyone else on the team with flaming red hair, or eyes that could suck anyone in…but she had said it anyway.

“Nicole.” The girl answered. “Nicole Haught.”

“Waverly, Earp.” Waverly answered.

Nicole gave her one last smile before backing into the door, pushing it open.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around then, _Waverly Earp_.”

And like that, she made her way out.

 _Nicole…Haught_.

“ _Of course_.” Waverly said to herself, watching the girl leave, taking in the scent of the hoodie. (Vanilla-dipped donuts—her favorite).


	2. Life on Ice

Nicole had never felt more like death.

It must’ve taken her fifteen minutes to get the energy to even roll over this morning, never mind actually get out of bed.

She’d known that no matter how good of shape she was in, she’d be sore after the first day of preseason. But, _wow_ , was she not expecting this. Every single muscle felt like it was on fire, and she was sore in places on her body she didn’t even knew could be sore.

She ran her hands over her face and groaned as she noticed the darkness outside her window. No matter how long she’d been playing hockey, she never could quite get herself used to the early morning practices. She’d never complain though, she loved it too much. Most days she couldn’t believe she was still playing at her age, and the fact that it was now her _job_.

She remembers draft night a couple months ago, the absolute anxiety as the night went on without hearing her name called. Round after round finished off and the doubt kept creeping in with each pick that wasn’t her. She’d known she wasn’t one of the top options, and she never tricked herself into believing she’d be picked in the first or second round, but by the time round six rolled around, she was starting to accept that her career was over and she’d have to find a real life job. She’d allowed the words of others to hold truth, that she wasn’t good enough or that the league was a silly pipe dream. The last pick of round seven, the final round, was being mulled over when Nicole had officially resigned herself to her fate of being a NARP when her phone rang.

She hadn’t traveled to Ottawa for the official draft, she knew that she wasn’t going to go in the first couple of rounds, and instead stayed in her off-campus apartment in Edmonton with CJ and watched the telecast from her couch anxiously. No parents, no teammates or friends from campus were there to watch with her. Her parents had been in and out of her life up until she went off to college and cut them out completely. Her teammates weren’t exactly what you’d call teammates and didn’t really ever care about each other outside of the locker room and she’d always been too preoccupied with class and hockey to make any real friends on campus. So, Nicole was stuck on draft night, alone with CJ, Calamity Jane, her favorite ginger cat.

When her phone had rung, CJ jumped ten feet in the air, Nicole recalls with a smile. It took her a moment to answer it, not wanting to get her hopes up, thinking it was most likely a telemarketer. But, the Purgatory Blue Devils had the last pick and the caller ID on her phone was an unknown number from _Purgatory, AB_ , so she took a deep breath and answered it.

“ _Nicole Haught?” The gruff voice on the other end asked._

“Yes, this is she.” (She still cringes at the phrase).

“ _My name is Randy Nedley, I’m the head coach of the Purgatory Blue Devils,” the words had spiked her heart rate up exponentially, “How would you like to come play for us?”_

Her eyes were filled with tears of pride, she had done it. She had made it (this far, at least), when others said she had no chance.

“It’d be an honor sir.” Was all she could manage to say without sounding like she was fighting tears, but she was certain he could hear the smile she was wearing.

_“Alright, well we’re gonna go ahead and use this and make you our official pick then. Welcome to the team Nicole.” Nedley said, and he sounded prideful as well._

“Thank you sir, thank you.” She’d answered and the call had ended.

Turning back to the telecast, she watched the league commissioner walk up to the stage, and make an official announcement.

_“With the final pick of this year’s draft, the Purgatory Blue Devils select Nicole Haught, Center, University of Alberta.”_

She’d spent the rest of June, July, August and the first week of September in Edmonton working on her game before finally getting to Purgatory a few days ago, signing a lease on the small apartment she was currently residing in. (She was grateful that at the very least, her landlord allowed her to keep CJ in the apartment with her).

Groaning as she moved around the apartment in the light of the table lamp, she filled her water bottle and grabbed a protein bar from the cupboard and packed her bag for practice. She knew she should probably leave her skates and sticks in the locker room, but she was still being hazed as the newbie (and the last pick overall) and didn’t want the team getting up to any funny business with them. It was bad enough they’d stolen her clothes while she showered after practice, even though they _were_ nice enough to leave her a towel for her walk of shame back to the main locker room for her garments.

This morning, she dressed in sweats and a team t-shirt, running a brush through her wild mane. She’d get more properly dressed for practice in the locker room anyway.

Checking her phone, she saw it was 5:32.

_Perfect_ , she thought. Practice was at 7 am and she was not even ten minutes from the rink. She’d have plenty of time to get in, roll out, stretch, and get ready for practice. She’s always been the type to show up early for things, paranoid about ever being late.

Nicole hobbled out of the bathroom, muscles slightly (but not much) less sore now that she’d been up and about, made sure that Calamity Jane had food and water, triple checked she had everything she needed, and then headed for the door to grab her hood— _right, the hoodie_.

Running into Waverly had been on her mind much of last night. Her awkward clumsiness was endearing, and there was something about the girl that was mesmerizing. When Nicole saw that the girl was shivering because of the spill, how could she not lend a hand? And it gave her an excuse to speak to the girl beyond that one encounter.

It was a real win-win.

Smiling at the memory of yesterday, Nicole grabbed a different hoodie and headed through the door.

Walking down the apartment stairs was considerably less fun and much harder than it should’ve been, but after more duck-walking, she safely made it to her car, and started off toward the arena. Pulling into the lot of the building, she headed straight for the locker room, waving to the office attendant who looked less than thrilled to be there.

As expected, she was the first one there. There was something peaceful about being the first one in the locker room. The calm before the storm.

She had to admit that her new teammates were nothing short of rowdy. Before practice yesterday, Carlson and Harris spent a half-hour before practice bumping Nicki Minaj and screaming at the top of their lungs. The others were hyping each other up and throwing wax and tape across the room at each other like they were playing dodgeball. But it was a team. Something she was clearly missing from her experience at UofA. She shuddered at the memories of girls rolling in fifteen minutes before practice, hungover from the night before a Tuesday morning practice.

Nicole sat down on the bench in her locker, taking in the quiet just a moment while she ate her protein bar. She’d have a more proper breakfast after practice, she just needed to get something in her stomach so she didn’t pass out on the ice.

After eating, she pulled the foam roller out of her locker and started to roll out her tight muscles. Hamstrings first, since they’d been the tightest, then moving to calves and then to the less sore muscles around her hip flexors.

Muscles activated, she used the time to stretch properly, grimacing slightly every once in a while at the soreness that wouldn’t completely go away. Stretching completed, she started to unpack her bag and dress for the upcoming practice. Spandex shorts, her dri-fit undershirt and her skate socks went on first before she heard the speaker coming down the hall and she knew that others were arriving.

When the door swung open, the two noisemakers were revealed to be none other than Carlson and Harris, who upon seeing the room wasn’t empty, yelled, “REDDDDD!” as their greeting to which Nicole smiled and greeted them all the same.

Others filed in after getting their morning training room routine in and started to dress, most of them completely comfortable with being well past half-naked around each other.

When she was younger, Nicole had spent most of her early days playing hockey on the boys club teams, and was always in a separate locker room to get dressed for practices and games, so the first time she was on a girls’ team at fifteen years old, she found her self more than a little uncomfortable and awkward changing in front of and being around other girls changing. (She’d come to realize why that was at seventeen, when a team captain had shoved her tongue down her throat, and Nicole finally saw the rainbows).

These days, at 22, the locker room atmosphere hadn’t fazed her one bit, and she was glad for that.

She’d always been particular in how her equipment went on, left shin guard, then the right one; left sock, right sock; pants, left skate, right skate, sticking the tongues out and tucking the shinnies into the skate before taping everything in place with clear tape. Before she’d put on her tops, she’d head to the bathroom to do her hair, today (like yesterday) opting for a simple braid. She gave herself one lookover in the mirror, and took a deep breath looking at the reflection still unbelieving that she’d been brought onto a professional team, in this gorgeous brand-new looking locker room.

She returned to the somehow even noisier part of the room where it seemed that all of her teammates were now present.

Pressman, team captain, stood in the center of the room and demanded silence, that was almost instantaneously granted.

“Alright, team colors today,” she started, ready to assign the team their specific practice jersey colors for the day. “Carlson, Harris, Johnson, Williams, Gardner, you’ll be in Navy with me. White team: Saunders, Smith, Thomas, Hansen, MacKinnon, Adams. And in the baby blues we’ve got Wilson, Powers, Boardman, Greene, Finning, and Haught. Tendies, divide amongst yourselves, Sheriff didn’t give me any orders for ya’ll.”

Nicole reached up into her locker for her baby blue jersey, hanging amongst the other two colors. Putting on her shoulder pads, left elbow pad and then the right, she pulled on the sweater with the blue devil on the front and the number 15 stitched across the back.

“Let’s have ourselves a good one squad, eh?” Pressman said as the team stood to roll out onto the ice, walking down the tunnel to the freshly Zamboni’d sheet.

Shae, being captain and all, led the team through the door and dumped the pucks onto the ice, each of them falling to the surface with a satisfying echo through the empty rink. The rest of the team followed, with a jogging start to get onto the ice with some speed. Nicole followed suit, being last in line as the rookie.

She hadn’t even taken her first stride when she felt her leg go out from under her and she felt herself falling. Sliding across the ice on her side, she felt her face burn in embarrassment and heard the others laughing.

“First day with the new legs Haught?” One of them had called, though Nicole couldn’t distinguish through the shock.

She could’ve _sworn_ she’d taken her skate guards off in the locker room. No, she’d _bet her life_ she did. And looking down at her feet, she’d found she was right. There was no guard on her blades.

She used her stick to get herself to a knee and pushed herself to stand, only to find herself slipping again. More laughter erupted from the team and— _oh, right._

She was the newbie, and still very much being hazed. The clear tape on her skate blades was the latest prank. She’d been careful to not leave her skates in the locker room overnight for this exact reason, though perhaps she hadn’t taken into account the time she’d left them unattended while she showered yesterday.

“You ladies think that’s funny?” The unmistakable voice of the Sheriff came from the other side of the bench area. The laughter came to an abrupt halt. Nedley pushed onto the ice and skated to the group that had congregated around Nicole, who was determined to get to her feet. The coach helped her stand before addressing the team. “I love tradition as much as the next guy, but just know, this is a team and when one falls,” he looked pointedly at Nicole, “we all fall. Now get on the line.”

Everyone’s least favorite words: _get on the line._

If there were groans, the team was good at concealing them and keeping them quiet.

Nedley helped Nicole to the bench where she started to peel the tape off of her skates. Once she had finished, he nodded for her to join the others on the line. The skate from the bench to the line was maybe one of the longest in her life as she’d never in her life been the reason the team had to _get on the line_. She hoped she was imagining the glares from the other girls.

“Now, as a team since we wanna fuck around before practice, we’ll just have to get ourselves serious real quick.” Nedley barked. “To the blue line and back, red line back, so on and so forth, on my whistles, don’t half-ass. Let’s go!”

They all knew what this meant. The dreaded _bag skate_. Repetition until they threw up or until Sheriff decided it was enough.

When Nedley blew the first whistle, they took off. The first round wasn’t all that bad, skating up and down was a good wake up for a morning practice. The second was less so as sore muscles and tired lungs started to make their appearance.

“ _Again._ ” Nedley called after what they hoped would be a third and final round.

It wasn’t.

“ _Again.”_

Blue line and back, red line and back, opposite blue line and back, goal line and back. Nicole really hoped that the others were as winded as she was. Hearing the two girls on the side of her gasping for air made her feel better.

“ _Again.”_

Another set of whistles. More heavy breathing.

_“Again._ ”

Back at it again.

“Well, I’ll say you all are mighty lucky that I was no Wayne Gretzky, or you’d have done damn near a hundred sets. I reckon ten should be enough for you all to have each other’s backs out here,” Nedley barked as the girls in front of him were doubled over and gasping from sprinting equivalent to 20 lengths of the rink non-stop. Nicole thanked the stars Randy Nedley was famous in Alberta for playing in the number 10 sweater and not the Great One’s 99. “Get some water, and set up 3v2’s.”

The rest of the 3-hour practice went by smoothly, especially considering that nothing was worse than conditioning right off the bat first thing in the morning. If the other girls were upset about the bag skate punishment, they kept it hidden from Nicole, though there were times in drills she felt like they were leaving her out. She’d tried, really, to not let it affect her game, but she knew everyone could see it, she was deflated and sluggish, no matter how hard she tried to energize herself.

She wondered why it was her they singled out so blatantly, considering there had been three other rookies on the team who were just as new as she was, though she had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with a certain team captain who ruled the roost.

“Alright, that’s practice.” One of the assistants, Lonnie, had called, and the girls all skated to the bench to get water and tidy up.

“Haught.” She froze when she heard her name. It was Nedley calling her, probably to call her out on her poor performance.

Timidly, she skated over to the man.

“Uh, yeah coach?”

“Just wanted to check in on you. You seemed off today.”

_Well that was certainly not what she was expecting._

“Must’ve been the morning coach. Sorry, I won’t let it happen again.”

He ran his hand over his goatee and made an indistinguishable sound.

“No, I don’t think that’s quite it, Nicole.” He said, uncharacteristically using her first name. “Do you know why you were picked for this team?”

She shook her head; she’d spent a lot of time in disbelief wondering that exact thing.

“Dolls wanted to trade the pick for a second-line winger from the Pirates. Had the deal all but wrapped up.” He explained, and she wondered why he was telling her this now. “But, I’d been in the draft room all night, and I had my eye on this scrappy little firecracker of a center from a less than great UofA squad. God, the fight I put up between him and old Bunny Loblaw to get them to use that pick on you.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Someone had fought to get her. She’d been _wanted_.

“I’ve seen you play kid, it’s all there. You just let what others do or say get to you. You’re stronger than that, I know it. I expect you to show it Haught.”

Nicole nodded, unable to form a verbal response.

“Good.” He smiled a bit. “And between you and me, we were gonna bag skate no matter what, so don’t let them make you think it was your fault.”

“Yes sir.”

“Go on then, enjoy the rest of your day.” He dismissed her and she skated off to the locker room.

Nedley was right, she needed to believe only in her own abilities and not what people had tried to make her believe. If she did that, she’d have nothing holding her back.

By the time she’d made it back to the locker room, it was mostly empty, as she could’ve expected from the growing noise coming from the direction of the training room.

She took a deep breath as she sat in her locker, removing her phone from the lockbox on the top cubby.

There were no new messages or anything of the like, not that she’d expected them. All that looked back at her was a photo of her and Calamity Jane that she had taken a while back, and the clock telling her it was 10:25 am.

She’d have the whole rest of the day to herself, an uncharacteristic amount of free time. Yesterday had been packed, with an early morning team run and lift before off-ice fitness testing and a two-and-a-half-hour practice.

She slowly undressed, throwing her practice jersey in the bin and her underclothes in her laundry bag before tossing that in the other laundry bin. The staff would take care of that for the team. Perks of being a pro, she supposed.

Nicole decided today was a good a day as any to trust her equipment to the locker room and leave her skates and sticks in her cubby. She had a pretty good feeling that nobody would try anything with them after the bag skate this morning.

She stretched as she stood, the fatigue of the last few days thick and heavy on her muscles. Gathering a towel and her street clothes, she brought herself to the showers and turned the heat all the way up. She worked the soap and shampoo through her hair, pulling out the tangles that were caused by the braid and her helmet.

Once showered and re-dressed, Nicole grabbed her duffel bag of stuff that was significantly more empty than this morning, deciding that tomorrow she’d settle on the team backpack she’d received and save the duffel bag for her equipment on away games.

Last one out, she turned off the light in the locker room and made her way for the exit. Her eyes flitted to the office, hoping to run into Waverly Earp again. Unfortunately, Nicole couldn’t seem to spot her, though she saw the same staff member sitting at the desk playing on her phone as she did when she arrived early this morning.

She debated stopping in and asking for Waverly, but the disinterest and scowl on the office girl’s face changed her mind, and she headed for the parking lot instead. She’d get her hoodie and say hi to the pretty girl she’d leant it to another time.

Nicole exited the rink and threw her bag into the backseat of her car, driving away eagerly toward her one-bedroom apartment. The rumbling in her stomach alerted her that she hadn’t had much more than a measly protein bar, and she couldn’t wait to get some real sustenance.

Calamity Jane nipped at her heels as she threw her keys on the counter and she did her best to nudge her away, only focused on the meal she had to prepare. She’d never consider herself a great cook by any means, but Nicole had at least a little sense in the kitchen. Removing the shaved steak she’d bought at the market yesterday from the refrigerator, she also grabbed an egg and some white cheddar cheese. Throwing the steak and cheese on her one frying pan, she waited for the steak to cook and the cheese to melt before adding the egg and scrambling it all together. The ciabatta bread she’d bought from the small bakery on the corner yesterday was toasting in her toaster oven, and the combination of smells was making Nicole even hungrier than she had been.

Once her meal had been completed, she plated the food and filled a glass with iced tea, retiring to the sofa in the living room and turning on the TV so as not to sit in the empty apartment in complete silence.

Following her late breakfast, she opted for a quick cat nap seeing as she could hardly keep her eyes open. (Laying on the couch after a good meal coupled with her exhausted body was a wonderful combination). When she awoke, it was barely 1:30, and she was lost for things to do. She didn’t know anyone else around town really, and the other girls on her team were out minding their own business or tending to their families and friends. All Nicole had was her cat and the entirety of _Golden Girls_ on Hulu to watch for the billionth time.

She thought of the rink, and how it always seemed that the same four or five people were working there no matter the day or time. She didn’t see it fair that she could sit around all day while they worked and picked up after her and her team on top of other responsibilities.

As the next episode clicked over, Nicole decided that tomorrow, she’d stop in and say hi and volunteer to help out there when she had the free time. It was only the right thing to do, they worked so hard. That was the only reason…obviously it couldn’t have anything to do with a certain clumsy little brunette angel who she’d leant her hoodie to.


	3. Home is Where the Mayhem Is

It wasn’t that Wynonna hated her job. Really, not at all. It was just that she had to _be_ there _all the time_. She’d always been a free spirit and never wanted to be tied down. But, when her uncle Curtis died, she had up and left Athens, knowing full well that her aunt and baby sister would need her. It was never meant to be permanent, but there was something holding her to her childhood home.

So now, four years later, she was still in Purgatory, and she was running Curtis’ pride and joy, the arena. The only thing he loved more was his wife Gus, and his tomatoes. Wynonna remembers growing up, losing her father and 13-year-old sister at just 12 years old, and Gus and Curtis taking her and Waverly in. Their mother, Gus’ sister, had split when she was ten and Waverly just four.

It was hard at first, being essentially orphaned, but slowly, Wynonna realized that the family she had shared with Gus and Curtis had been better than her mentally ill mother and drunken sheriff of a father. Curtis brought her up at the rink and she loved to watch any and every hockey game with her uncle. There were warm memories attached to the place.

But, as Wynonna grew, her past and the town grew suffocating to her, and she figured as soon as she was old enough to get out, she would, even if it meant leaving her family behind. At first, she’d gone to the States, going wherever the wind blew her, never more than a few miles from the bar. Even at 18, she could get her way into most any club with what she called _street smarts_ , but realistically was just flirting enough with bouncers and bartenders to get by. She’d been gone for a year before she came back to Purgatory, just in time for Waverly’s 13th birthday. She didn’t stick around much longer than a month at a time over that next year, working on the wrong side of the wrong side of the tracks for enough money to finally get out of Purgatory for good. She spent the next three or so years sleeping and drinking and wandering her way across Europe, until, well, Curtis had died, and she felt compelled back to the place she’d called home for the first half of her life.

Purgatory had been home again now for the last four years, Wynonna now 27 and Waverly 21. Unlike the last times however, Wynonna couldn’t bring herself to leave. She found herself still hating the sleepy little town from time to time, but she still couldn’t bear to leave. That’s how she found herself working an honest job, keeping Curtis’ pride and joy functioning.

Gus had handed the enterprise over to a business manager she had known from her youth and trusted with her life, and they ran finances and the like, but Wynonna and a few trusted workers kept it functioning from day to day. (Save for Champ, who was dumber than a bag of hammers. He was just there because he couldn’t find a job anywhere else).

Today had been slow, similar to yesterday. Although, she was grateful that she didn’t have to open for the Devil’s early practice today—it was Robin’s turn for that. Instead, she rolled in at 9:30, sitting in the office and playing on her phone. Today she was on skate cleaning, answering the phone, and public skate duty. Poor Waverly was on locker room and laundry duty, and would probably stick around for public skate, unless she and Chrissy had plans.

Wynonna decided that 10:30 was about a good a time as any to get to actual work when there was a knock on the office door.

“Public skate isn’t until 1:00.” Wynonna called, not bothering to look up from her phone.

“Uh, actually,” the person in the doorway said, “I was wondering if I could talk to someone in charge?”

Groaning, though hiding it from them, Wynonna looked up at the intruder.

“That would be me, whatcha want?”

The redhead in the doorway made a move to step into the office, but Wynonna gave her a warning look not to encroach on her territory, and the other stepped back. It wasn’t like she was being territorial or anything, the other girl just looked meek and sheepish and it was so much fun toying with her.

“Uh, I’m Nicole. Haught—”

“Why Nicole, I’m flattered.” Wynonna cut her off, earning a confused look.

“Huh?”

“You called me hot, obviously.” She toyed, flipping her hair exaggeratedly.

“Oh, no, um well, not that you’re not, but it’s my name. Nicole Haught.” The girl rambled. “Like _H-a-u-g-h-t_.”

Chuckling lightly, Wynonna waved her off, offering mercy to the girl’s awkwardness.

“Settle down Haught stuff, I’m just playing with you. What do ya need?”

“I actually was wondering if you guys needed any help around the rink? I just see you guys all the time and, well I’d love to help out around here if you needed some.”

“You want a job here?” Wynonna probed.

“Well, more like just doing some volunteering? You wouldn’t need to pay me or anything.”

“You wanna work here for free?” She asked, not understanding why anyone would do anything without payment. “Wait, is this like a community service thing or something? Parole stipulation or whatever?”

Nicole furrowed her brow, and almost scrunched her face up like she had been insulted.

“What? No! God, I, sorry this was stupid.” She said as she moved to leave. “I’ll just go.”

Wynonna stood up to stop her.

“No, no. Don’t go. If you’re not here for community service, then why _are_ you?”

“I’m on the Devils. I see you guys here working, it’s like the same four or five people every day.”

“Yeah, it is.” Wynonna confirmed. “Wait, if you’re on the team, why don’t you have team gear? I thought you all had some sort of dress code to follow?”

Nicole looked down at her plain black hoodie in realization.

“Oh, I actually gave it to one of the girls that works here. Leant it to her when she spilled our bottles from practice all over herself.”

“Shut up! That’s your hoodie? I was so pissed at Waverly because she got her hands on some team swag without getting me any.”

“Uh, yeah,” Nicole nodded, surprised by Wynonna’s sudden outburst.

“No wonder why she wouldn’t tell me where to get it. _God_ I bugged her about it all night.” Wynonna continued. “So, you wanna volunteer here because you have nothing better to do like I don’t know, _being a professional athlete_?”

“Well no, actuall—”

“—well, then why?”

“I’ve only been in Purgatory a few days and don’t really know anyone around town and I have more time than I even know what to do with, and I can’t just sit around my apartment all day before or after practice, and I figured I’d make myself useful.”

Wynonna mulled the redhead’s words over, processing the amount of information rattled off at her.

“So, you have no friends and wanna work for free?” Wynonna smirked.

“Technically, but you don’t need to put it that way.” Nicole frowned slightly.

“Alright red, you know what? I like you. You can work with us when you’ve got free time, on one condition.” Wynonna paused, judging Nicole’s reaction.

“What?”

“You gotta help me clean these nasty ass rental skates and reorganize them, that way there’s time for me to cause mayhem before public skate.”

Nicole nodded with a smile, extending her hand to Wynonna.

“Okay, I uh, actually never quite got your name, since we’ll be working together and all.”

“I’m Wynonna goddamn Earp, Haught shot.”

\- - -

True to her word, Nicole helped Wynonna clean and organize the skates. And true to _her_ word, when they had finished, Wynonna was going to cause mayhem.

After some (a lot of) persuasion, Wynonna had convinced (forced) Nicole to come with her down to the now presumably empty training room to leave a surprise for Doc and Rosita and Kate, opting to TP the treatment tables.

“Wynonna, I don’t think that this is a good ide—”

“—Shhh! I told you I was causing mayhem, god.”

“Yeah, but this seems a little rude don’t you think? Wouldn’t you be mad if someone came in and messed up your space?” Nicole tried to be the mature one despite being a half decade younger.

“Haha, you’re cute.” Wynonna teased, continuing to gather toilet paper for her fun, now sneaking along the hallway, pulling Nicole down to her level. “It’s called a prank, hazing if you will. You’re the newbie, haven’t you been getting pranked?”

Nicole frowned.

“Uh, yeah, which is why I _know_ this is mean.”

“If we’re gonna work together, you’re gonna have to take that big ol’ stick and remove it from your ass.”

Nicole grumbled indistinguishably, but still went along with Wynonna regardless.

With the training room in sight, the two saw that the lights were off, but the door was left slightly ajar. Wynonna rolled across the hallway like she was in some sort of spy film, Nicole trailing behind her, on foot.

_No fun._ Wynonna thought as she watched the uptight redhead.

Inching forward, Wynonna determined the coast clear enough for her to push into the training room and flick on the light.

“You stand and be lookout.” She told Nicole.

“Dude, the team’s gone, they’ve probably all left. No one’s coming.”

“Alright, grab a roll then and help me.” She tossed a roll at the redhead.

“What? No Wynonna!” She through the roll back. “This is so juvenile.”

“Well I _am_ a former juvenile delinquent.”

“Don’t you have an actual job you could be getting done?”

“Yeah, but this is more fun,” Wynonna said, “If you’re not gonna help, then just shut up, be the lookout and don’t ruin this for me.”

With a huff from Nicole, Wynonna got to work.

Unraveling the rolls around the legs of the training tables, Wynonna covered as much as she possibly could in the paper. She slunk through the room, covering the tables and cabinets and snooped over to Doc’s desk.

She had to admit, there was something intriguing about the man. Something was so mysterious about a man who looked like he was pulled straight out of the OK Corral. She scanned the desk quickly, trying to sneak a peak into the man’s life. There were only a couple pictures framed on the surface—one of him on a horse and another of him next to a pretty sexy looking red Camaro—and a notepad with a note scrawled on the top sheet: _Pick up Charlene before 3:30._ (There was a split second where she wanted to probe into _who_ Charlene was, but brushed it away just as quickly).

Continuing to vandalize the room, she discovered a cabinet under the desk and found a bottle of bourbon inside.

_Hmm_ , _my kinda guy_ , she thought to herself.

“Ya know, if you actually put this much effort into your job,” Nicole started, as she looked in to see the fruits of Wynonna’s labor, “imagine how much would get done around here.”

“You need to live a little Nicole.” She said as they stood in the hallway, capers all finished. “That was fun and you’re standing here like we just committed murder.”

Nicole just rolled her eyes. _God, what was it with this girl and morals?_

“Seriously, what’s the most rebellious thing you’ve done?” Wynonna probed.

“You really wanna know?”

“Is a tomato a vegetable?”

“You know technically it’s a frui—”

“—ugh _god_! Shut up and tell me.” Wynonna groaned.

Nicole at least looked like she was going to tell her when footsteps down the hall interrupted.

As Doc strolled past the two, he tipped his cowboy hat to them, “Greetings ladies.”

“Hi Doc.” They said simultaneously.

“Are you injured Miss Haught? Do you need anything? I have not seen you in the training room prior to this occasion.” Doc asked.

Nicole looked like a cornered puppy, nervous and almost like she was fighting back her urge to give the two of them up.

“Oh, no no.” She said, her voice going up an octave or two. “Just chatting with Wynonna.”

Taking this as a sufficient answer, Doc bid them farewell and headed toward the training room.

Wynonna slapped Nicole on the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“Dude! What the fuck? I thought you were gonna sell us out.”

“I can _not_ lie to people in positions of authority.” Nicole explained, rubbing at her shoulder.

“If we’re gonna be friends, we’re gonna have to teach you how to lie.”

Nicole opened her mouth to say something, but paused when they heard an exclamation from the direction of the training room.

“ _My lord! These tables have been defiled by hooligans!”_

At the sound of Doc’s voice, the two took off running, both of them unable to hold back laughter.

“That was actually kinda fun!” Nicole said once they were back in the safety of the office. “Is it bad that I kinda wish I could’ve seen the look on his face?”

“ _See_ , I told you. Look what you’re missing.” Wynonna agreed, proud that she was already being a negative influence on the girl. “ _My lord!_ ” She imitated, increasing Nicole’s laughter. “These tables have been _defiled_ by _hooligans_.”

As their laughter died down, Nicole continued to smile.

“Wynonna?” She asked. Wynonna nodded. “You said something. You said _if we’re gonna be friends_ …did you really mean that?”

Wynonna shrugged.

“Eh, we’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 things:
> 
> 1) I love Wynaught with my whole chest
> 
> 2) This story started as a brainstorm for a class assignment and I've had these first three chapters on my laptop for literal weeks
> 
> 3) I've been toying with the idea of a background/secondary relationship for Wynonna, and am torn between WynDoc or WynDolls. I'm open to either, so please let me know what y'all think!!


	4. Little Talks and Letting Go

To say Waverly was disappointed not to see Nicole the in the days after their interaction would be an understatement. At the very least, she’d wanted to return the borrowed item of clothing and thank her again. Unfortunately, Nicole must’ve skipped out right after practice had ended, before Waverly had even come into work.

Now, three days after their encounter, Waverly had left the hoodie at the homestead, figuring her luck couldn’t change on the third day in a row of 7 am Devils’ practices.

She had finished her run to the laundry room, bringing the practice towels and jerseys to wash before she decided to pay Wynonna a visit in the office.

There were stacks of boxes that came into view as she entered the lobby. The trucks delivering concessions and merchandise must’ve come today. Waverly also noted the grunting and struggling of someone trying to move the heavy objects.

 _Poor Wynonna,_ Waverly thought with a small laugh. _Actually has some work to do around here._

“Push with your legs!” She heard. She found it odd that the voice didn’t belong to Wynonna.

“Shut up with your mouth!”

 _That_ was Wynonna.

Curious as to who the owner of the first voice was, Waverly made her way around the boxes to where the pair was.

“Why are these so heavy? It’s impossible.”

“Dude, aren’t you like a professional athlete or something?”

“I’m a hockey player not a bodybuilder.”

Taking in the sight in front of her, she watched her sister and Nicole pushing a stack of boxes that absolutely refused to move. Across the lobby, leaning against the wall near the entrance door was a hand truck probably left there for the exact task Wynonna and Nicole were struggling with. She would’ve found it funny if not for, wait— _Nicole?_

_What had Nicole been doing here? The team had to have been gone for well over what had to be four hours by now._

“Uh, hey guys?” Waverly interrupted their very strange attempt at manual labor. The two of them looked up, Nicole blowing away a lock of red hair that had fallen into her face. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Oh you know,” Wynonna gestured around her, “boxes.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” She retorted, smiling at the mention of the obvious. “You look like you’re struggling.”

Wynonna sent her a _duh_ look, and Nicole had now slumped against one side of the box in defeat.

“These boxes weigh like _a million pounds_.”

“Did you ever think to try the hand truck to move them? The thing with wheels?”

The other two looked over to where Waverly had pointed and saw the tool. Nicole’s brow furrowed in anger as she directed her glare at Wynonna.

“ _The hand truck?”_ She all but growled. “ _Wynonna! Are you kidding?”_

“Oh, it’s not like you jumped to get it!”

“You didn’t give me a chance to even see it!” Nicole fought back, and Waverly found the bickering downright hilarious. “I just walked into the lobby and you hollered ‘ _Oi Haught shit, get over here and help me!’_ Ring any bells?”

“Ugh whatever.” Wynonna conceded and walked over to get the truck.

Waverly watched the two move the stacks of boxes much more easily now until they were all cleared out of the way. Once they had finished, Wynonna went and plopped herself down at the desk in the office, and Waverly made her way to talk to Nicole.

“Hey.” She said with a smile.

“Hey.”

“I’ve uh, been meaning to get your hoodie back to you, but I guess we keep missing each other. And figures the one day I do see you, I leave it at home.”

Nicole smiled brightly at her, yet again exposing her dimples.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m in no rush for it back.”

“So, I see you’ve met Wynonna.”

“You could say that.”

“I’m sorry she roped you into helping her, that’s so not your job.”

“Actually, I told Wynonna I’d love to help any time I’ve got some free time. So, I guess it kinda is my job.”

Waverly didn’t quite understand why Nicole would want to work at the place she practiced and played in when she could be using her free time elsewhere, doing other, funner things.

“Wait, so you’re working here now?” Nicole nodded her response. “Why?”

Waverly had cringed at the way she had asked the moment she had said it, especially seeing the smile on Nicole’s face shrink slightly.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. Just, you’re busy with the team and I’m sure you’d rather hang out with friends or—”

“—Waverly, relax.” Nicole interrupted. “I…just got here a few days ago, and don’t really have much in the friend department. And, I’ve got way more time on my hands than I ever imagined, and my apartment is _so boring_ , and I see you all work so hard, and I figured I would make myself useful and help out. Wynonna brought me on yesterday to help.”

Upon clarification, Waverly found herself happy Nicole would be joining them at the rink. God knows they could use someone who was actually going to do their job.

“Did you help Wynonna TP the training room yesterday?”

“Well, technically, she dragged me down there and made me be the lookout, but I never physically TP’d anything.”

“Figures.” Waverly rolled her eyes playfully, “She loves to cause trouble, but it’s mostly harmless now, just pranks and jokes.”

“Wha? What do you mean _now_?” Nicole asked, confused, and looking a bit concerned. “Did she...was she not harmless before?”

“No…not anything like that, just regular teenage rebel stuff, B&E, graffiti, you know.” Waverly tried her best to soothe the girl who momentarily appeared on edge.

“Oh, okay.” She released a heavy breath.

As Waverly and Nicole conversed, the rest of the rink staff rolled in—Robin first, and Champ a good fifteen minutes late (that pretty much being on time for him). Waverly greeted Robin with a smile and wave as he headed off to his station. When Champ entered, he made his way pointedly over to Waverly, interrupting Nicole mid-sentence.

“Hey, babe.” He said, grabbing Waverly for a hug and pressing a kiss to the side of her forehead. She’d never necessarily been against PDA, but she also never did quite like when Champ forced it on her, and especially not when it was rude or interrupted something.

“Hi baby,” Not wanting to fight right now, she sighed and leaned into it, closing her eyes slightly. She didn’t miss how the smile on Nicole’s face faltered yet again.

Champ lingered for a moment, probably expecting something more, before he headed off toward the small mechanic room to work on the Zamboni.

“Sorry about him.” Waverly apologized. “He doesn’t always understand when not to interrupt conversations.”

“Boyfriend?” Nicole asked and Waverly nodded.

“Champ’s a lovely boy—man,” she corrected, though the words felt weird in her mouth. _A lovely boy?_ When did she become a grandmother talking about her grandson?

Nicole just smirked.

“A _boy-man_?” She said, repeating Waverly’s words. “Yup, I’ve been there. It’s the worst.”

Not even wanting to get into what Nicole meant by that, Waverly smiled and then tried to find something to work on.

She decided that unpacking the boxes might be a fun project to keep them occupied. Waverly and Nicole walked over to the rooms where Nicole and Wynonna had placed the boxes. There were two of them, one for jerseys and t-shirts and other team merchandise and another larger one connected to the fridge and freezer that would be for concessions. Waverly decided that the frozen foods should be put away first and the two of them got to work.

“So there’s what, four of you that work here full time at the rink?” Nicole asked.

“Yeah, you know me and Wynonna, and you’ve sort of met Champ,” Waverly explained. “And there’s Robin, the one who walked in before Champ did.”

“How will it work on game days then? Like I can’t imagine running concessions and tickets and merchandise will all fall on you guys, because that’s a lot. And never mind security and all that.” Nicole asked, taking a box of frozen onion rings off the stack and into the walk-in freezer.

“As far as I remember, Dolls brought in some private security to work home games.” Waverly noted, handing a box of something (mozzarella sticks?) to Nicole. “And then I think Beth and Mercedes Gardner are in charge of concessions—you should probably stay away from their brother, Tucker, though. He’s a total creep—and merchandise is Chrissy’s department, so it’ll probably be some kids from the high school who need volunteer hours.”

Nicole nodded in understanding.

“And what about you guys? Wynonna and the rest of y’all?”

“We don’t have official assignments, but I’m pretty sure I know how it’ll shake out.” Waverly explained as Nicole placed the last box in the freezer and closed it behind her. “I’m a hundred percent certain that Champ is in charge of Zamboni driving since that’s pretty much his only job here, Robin will probably run the music for warmups and goals and intermissions—he majored in jazz history so he’s the most qualified I guess—and Wynonna will probably work tickets and admission, and I really, really, _really_ hope it works out that way because that’d mean I’d be in charge of scorekeeping and working the scoreboard, so I’d get to sit in between the benches— _best seat in the house!_ ”

Waverly was giddy with anticipation of the job, even if it wasn’t officially hers just yet. Nicole beamed as brightly as her, sharing in her excitement.

They moved over to the team merchandise in the room just across from where they had just been, inspecting the room and deciding where everything should go. The room itself was much bigger than Waverly was expecting, mainly because they had used it for storage prior to the team coming to Purgatory. There were shelves and racks to neatly organize everything. Nicole allowed Waverly to come up with a plan of attack for displaying everything which Waverly gladly appreciated. (She was a planner, what could she say?)

All in all it took about forty-five minutes to get all of the display items out—jerseys on the racks, with a few hanging for people to decide which they wanted, t-shirts, hats, hoodies, scarves, banners and tiny knick-knacks like commemorative pucks and bobble heads were arranged meticulously and the boxes of extras of everything were placed in the back closet. Waverly clapped with excitement at just how _good_ everything looked.

“Well, I’ll say,” Nicole smiled as she wiped her brow of the sweat that built from stacking and unstacking boxes, “that you are much easier to work with than Wynonna.”

“Anyone in this town could’ve told you that one.” Waverly rolled her eyes playfully. “She’s great, just doesn’t play well with others.”

“Yeah, I got that off the bat…but I do find it weird she was willing to have me help out here if she’s so against working with others.”

“Hmmm…why _would_ Wynonna want another person to work here, for free by the way, why on earth would she want that? I swear I know; I just can’t place it.” Waverly added sarcastically, and Nicole nodded, face filling with understanding.

A silence fell over them, not awkward, just a silence, as they locked up the merchandise room, and walked back to the main lobby, that was filling more and more with people who were coming to skate. (She hadn’t even realized that it was approaching the 6 pm public skate). Waverly was about to strike up another topic of conversation with the redhead whose company she was enjoying when there was a shout from the office.

“Hey, Ginger spice!” Wynonna called.

Nicole looked at Waverly, with a raised eyebrow, almost looking as if she were saying “ _Oh god, what now?”_.

“That’s you.” Waverly giggled, nodding her head to Nicole.

Wynonna had approached them, carrying a bright orange vest, similar to the one she was sporting. She tossed the item at Nicole, who didn’t have time to react before it had collided with her face.

“Okay dude, I am _seriously_ doubting you as an athlete now.” Wynonna cackled, looking at the redhead with the vest on her head.

Nicole removed the article of clothing from her face and sent a glare at Wynonna. Waverly couldn’t help but chuckle at the interaction.

“Don’t be mean Wynonna.” Waverly defended. “She could probably kick your ass.”

Nicole’s face brightened at Waverly’s words.

“Pfft.” Her sister scoffed. “She wishes. She clearly doesn’t have the reflexes.”

“What do you want, Wynonna?” Nicole asked, still slightly miffed, probably from having clothes thrown at her.

“Put that bad boy on, we’ve got public skate duty.” Wynonna instructed Nicole. “Waves, babygirl, you’ve got the office, right?”

“I actually think that’s Robin tonight. I’ve got a trash run to go, and then I’m supposed to meet Chrissy at Shorty’s.”

Wynonna nodded.

“Maybe me and Nicole will join you once we finish up for the night. You down Haught shot?”

“Uh, what’s Shorty’s?” Nicole asked curiously.

Wynonna’s jaw dropped and she almost looked offended.

“How are you a grown adult in Purgatory and not know what Shorty’s is?”

“Maybe because I’ve been here for a week, Wynonna.” Nicole said pointedly.

Waverly had to say, she liked the way that Nicole gave as good as she got when it came to Wynonna. She knew too many people were afraid to come back at her sister, or they just brushed it off and walked away angry. A girl who pushed back, Waverly liked that…it’d be good for Wynonna, obviously.

“Shorty’s is the best bar in town. Only place to go really.” Waverly explained.

“Well then, I uh, I’d love to,” Nicole said, “but, Nedley actually has a rule that we can’t drink during preseason, so I probably shouldn’t do Shorty’s until after the first game. Wouldn’t wanna be a buzzkill.”

“ _Bullshit_. Nedley’s at happy hour at Shorty’s almost every day, like clockwork.” Wynonna chirped.

“Even more reason why Nicole shouldn’t do Shorty’s when she’s on a drinking ban.” Waverly said, a reprimanding tone directed toward her terrible influence of a sister.

  
“Whatever.” Wynonna raised her hands in concession. “Still, let’s go Red, throw that vest on and get your skates. It’s show time.”

Wynonna directed Nicole before departing to do the same. Nicole stood, pulling the vest on and pouting. Waverly tried to ignore the little pull in her stomach at the look on her face.

“Oh my god, the vest matches your hair!” Waverly chimed gleefully, teasing Nicole. The bright orange of the vest rivaled the girl’s hair, only highlighted more by the contrasting blue beanie she wore on her head.

Sighing heavily, Nicole took a look at herself in the reflection of the glass doors.

“Duty calls, I guess. I’ll see you tomorrow Waves?”

“Yeah. Have fun, don’t let Wynonna get to you, she’s harmless.”

Nicole smiled before walking toward the locker room doors to retrieve her skates.

Just as quickly as she found herself alone, Waverly was joined by someone else entering the lobby. She saw Champ make his way over to her and she sent him a smile. Champ took a seat on the bench next to her.

“Hey babe,” He said. “How was work today?”

“Good, just kinda long.” She smiled, happy he was interested in how her day went for once. “But you should see the merch room, it looks so good!”

Champ nodded, but Waverly had a suspicion that he wasn’t really listening.

“Who was that chick? The redhead?” He asked, a little too suspicious for Waverly’s liking.

“Nicole, why?”

“Oh no reason,” Champ said, putting his hands up. “She’s just been hanging around a lot the last couple days. I didn’t know we were hiring.”

“We weren’t.” She explained. “Nicole just volunteered to help out, and Wynonna saw it as a way to dump some of her responsibilities on someone else.”

“Why the fuck would she just volunteer like that? Doesn’t she have a life or anything?”

She wasn’t sure why he was acting this way, but something about the way he was blatantly insulting Nicole behind her back really didn’t sit right with her.

“Champ, don’t be rude.” She chastised the boy. “Nicole’s on the Devils, and she’s volunteering to help out in her free time.”

“So what does she not have any friends or literally anything better to do?” He scoffed.

Waverly rolled her eyes, not wanting this conversation to continue. Why was it any of his business what Nicole did on her free time?

“It doesn’t matter Champ, she’s doing a nice thing, just let it go.” The two sat in silence for a beat, a little tense for her liking.

After a moment, Champ blew the air out of his cheeks and broke the silence.

“So, anyway,” his tone had changed. It was evident to Waverly that he wanted something. “I’ve got an hour before I gotta clean the ice again, why don’t we go upstairs and you know, _have some fun?_ ”

Of course. That was all she seemed to be good for these days in Champ’s eyes.

“No Champ.” She refused. It was her right after all.

“Why not?” He grumbled.

Waverly was at a crossroads. On the one hand, she could tell him she just wasn’t in the mood and had work to do—which wasn’t a lie. On the other, she could finally stick up for herself and tell him how she had really felt.

She opted for the second. She had really been tired of Champ treating her like an object, a possession.

“Because that’s all you want to see to do with me anymore, Champ.” She sighed.

“Well, what can I say,” he smirked, “you’re hot.”

“I,” she started but stopped to compose her thoughts. “I’m more than a body or a face, Champ. For once I wish we’d talk about something, _anything_.”

“We talk.” Champ defended, surprised at her words.

“You talking about the rodeo while watching the Canucks game doesn’t count as talking.” Waverly said, exasperatedly. When he quirked an eyebrow in confusion, she continued. “I want to talk about things that are _real_. I wanna have deep conversations, there’s so much about the world we can talk about Champ, so much we can do. It doesn’t have to be all about sex or video games or the rodeo.”

“You know I love that big beautiful brain of yours. It blows my mind sometimes that someone so beautiful can be so smart too.” Champ said, trying to charm his way out of this one. (He clearly missed it when she muttered “ _They’re not mutually exclusive_ ” under her breath). “There’s always so much going on up there, so what’s so wrong about me wanting to help you turn it off from time to time?”

“Because I don’t wanna turn it off Champ.” She blurt out, unable to hold it back any longer. If Champ was taken aback by the outburst, Waverly couldn’t bring herself to care. In a move of boldness, and something probably a long time coming, she couldn’t stop herself from saying what came next. “We’re done Champ. Yeah, we’re done.”

She swears his jaw dropped all the way onto the floor. He spluttered for a minute, trying to gather himself enough to formulate a response.

“Baby, please.” He pleaded.

“Give me one reason we should stay in this relationship, besides how attractive you think I am.”

When he struggled, Waverly had had her answer.

“Goodbye, Champ.” She said, standing to attend to her duties and then to leave for the night, suddenly feeling lighter from removing herself from a relationship she hadn’t even realized had been suffocating her.


	5. Prove Yourself

The rest of the preseason simultaneously dragged on and flew by for Nicole. It only seemed that practices were getting harder, which was to be expected with the first game rapidly approaching, but once team activities were over for the day, she found that they flew by. The team itself had started to warm up to her, as they built chemistry and Nicole found herself more and more comfortable on the ice with these girls. She clicked especially well with her linemates, Powers and Finning, and Nedley seemed to have taken notice, if his nods when they made plays in practice were any indication. In fact, the only person who still seemed to be openly chilly to her was Shae, though she maybe should’ve expected that.

Working at the rink proved to be a welcome addition to her schedule, as she found herself passing the time while also finding peace in the sanctuary of the rink. The Earp sisters were welcoming, even if Wynonna was a little reckless and a lot rough around the edges, and she swore Robin was one of the nicest guys she’d ever met. She found herself annoyed by Champ’s presence, but attributed it to his overall immaturity and douche-ness. (It _definitely_ wasn’t her definite _not crush_ on Waverly Earp. Even if she did, _hypothetically_ , have a crush on the girl, Waverly had a boyfriend, and Nicole Haught was a woman of morals, thank you very much, and would _never_ interfere).

Now, two days before the big game, Nicole found herself walking into the arena for media day. The far side of the lobby was set up with photo backgrounds and all sorts of lighting apparatuses. Nedley had given them the day off from full practice, on the stipulation that they get a team run and meal in, giving them enough time to get to the rink for photos and any press interviews that may be thrown their way.

In the locker room was their game day uniforms for photos, all pressed and fresh in the home baby blues. Nicole had followed the CWHL for as long as she could remember, and remembered the old Vancouver Blue Devils uniforms, and how she had never quite liked the dark navy and royal blue combination; but now with the relocation and new ownership, a new rebranding made the uniforms absolutely gorgeous. It also helped that blue really was her color.

As Nicole started to dress for picture day along with the rest of the team, she found a note in her stall. It was scrawled out on a post-it note, but Nicole could tell it was from Wynonna.

_Happy picture day Haught Shot, hope your stupid mug doesn’t break the camera._

She smiled at the note and put it in her locker for safe keeping. She hadn’t quite been able to call the older Earp sister a friend, but she had grown fond of the woman over the past few weeks, and had grown used to the nicknames and the teasing.

When it was finally time for them to get on with photos, Nicole couldn’t help but note how much this was _not_ like picture day at school. Even at UofA, there was not this much fanfare around taking pictures. Because this was so much more than that.

There was a board posted in the lobby of assignments and scheduled things that each of the players on the team had to do. Some of them had more than others, the vets and the higher popularity prospects had interviews lined up with the various local and national sports outlets; everyone had the basics though: personal headshots, a few action shots with projected linemates, and the team photo.

Nicole found her name on the list, almost _shocked_ to see that she’d had an interview lined up. She figured that those were reserved for people like Shae or Jenna, or literally _anyone_ more interesting than her. Nonetheless, once team pictures were done, she was supposed to meet with a Jeremy Chetri from the _Purgatory Gazette_.

Before she knew it, she heard her name being called, and she stepped into the bright lighting. They were instructing her how to stand, how to smile, face the camera, and a few poses and short videos to use for goals and pregame introductions. (She did as she was told, but really all she could think about was how _hot_ these damn lights were).

Moving into the actual rink for the team photo, Nicole remembered why she wasn’t too keen on picture day. Being as tall as she was, she always knew her place was in the back, that wasn’t the issue. The issue came from team photographers that thought they were Annie Liebovitz or Henri-Cartier Bresson, trying to direct the photo like it was some abstract piece of art. It really wasn’t that complex to organize a group of girls by height to take a team photo.

It took far too long, but eventually got done.

The rest of the girls broke off toward their interviews, and Nicole watched as media seemingly flocked to everyone else.

“Fifteen…fiftee—oh, hey!” Nicole heard mumbling and then a shout. As she turned around to find the source of the voice, she saw a small, awkward-looking guy with a notebook and a voice recorder in his hand. “You’re Nicole…Haught, right?”

“Uh, yeah that’s me.”

“Alright, perfect. I’m Jeremy from the _Gazette_.” He introduced himself, extending his hand to Nicole, which she shook. “Let’s see if we can’t find a place to do this interview.”

Nodding, Nicole followed the reporter to a corner of the main lobby that was quieter than the rest of it. There was something charming about his awkwardness, Nicole noted, and it definitely wasn’t something she’d expected out of a person whose job it was to talk to and report on people.

“Alright, Nicole, just a quick little ‘get to know the rookie’ type of interview. Just a few simple points, any questions?”

Nicole shook her head, ready to just get the interview going.

“Perfect.” Jeremy said, turning on his recorder and flipping his notebook open to a page with what she assumed were the interview questions. “So if you wanna just introduce yourself real quick, you know name, where you’re from, age, position.”

She took Jeremy’s prompting and began.

“Okay, so my name is Nicole Haught, I’m twenty-two, I was born in a town called Beaumont, but grew up in Edmonton, and I primarily play center, but, I’ll go wherever I’m needed if it helps the team.”

Jeremy gave her a thumbs up for the answer and moved onto the next one.

“When did you first start playing hockey?”

“I’d say I was about seven or eight.” Nicole said, remembering how her parents were never really around to get her started on the game at the younger age that most kids did. Her aunt and uncle had gotten her into it after taking her to a local game in Beaumont and Nicole fell in love with it.

“Did you have a favorite team growing up?”

“I’m Edmonton through and through, so I love my Oilers, but my guilty pleasure team is the Bruins.” Nicole added with a small chuckle. How violently un- _Canadian_ was that? Jeremy seemed to laugh along with her before taking a look down at his list of questions.

“Awesome, and any favorite players growing up? Or players you try to model your game after?”

“You know,” Nicole paused to think. She’d never _really_ sat down and thought of any one player she tried to embody. “My uncle always showed me tapes of Gretzky growing up, so I think he’s one everyone looks up to. But I’ve always liked the way that Patrice Bergeron plays on both ends of the puck, so I guess I’d say I try to model the work ethic mixed with skill.”

Jeremy continued on with the interview, asking a few more questions before ending it cordially. Nicole found herself more at ease in the interview than she thought she could be, and she chalked it up to the comforting _humanity_ and approachability that the guy had.

He had left her once the interview had concluded, saying that the whole piece would be printed up in the paper on the morning of the big game on Tuesday.

\---

On Tuesday morning, Nicole brought herself into the rink early for a quick skate. Wynonna had managed to pull some strings and get her in before everyone else, especially because there was no real morning skate scheduled like there normally would be on game days.

It was a good wake up, a good heart rate spike first thing in the morning, though Nicole did wish she could’ve slept a bit more than she had last night. The nervous energy and anticipation had always seemed to get to her—there was absolutely nothing like the first game day of a season.

With her headphones on and a Johnny Cash song playing, Nicole flew across the ice, the cold air working wonders on waking her up and filling her lungs with the crispness not unlike the feeling of the air the morning after the first snow.

Somewhere along the way, she became aware that she wasn’t alone in the rink.

“Didn’t expect anyone to be here so early.” The voice had said. Nedley in his navy tracksuit was standing at the bench, holding a suit bag with his gameday attire. Nicole skated over to greet him.

“Uh, yeah, Wynonna let me in. Just needed to get a skate in, get my head ready for the game tonight.”

“Wynonna Earp, somewhere early, doing things for others…I guess she _has_ grown up,” Nedley chuckled lightly. “Well good on ya, Haught. I’ll leave you to it.”

She thanked him and started to skate again as he headed up toward his office. The rush she felt skating was unmatched. It allowed her to drop anything outside that wasn’t related to hockey or the game ahead. She didn’t have to think about her parents clear lack of interest in raising a child, or the untimely death of her aunt and uncle just as she was starting college, or the lack of family and friends she had had in college, the doubt that literally everyone had in her in the pursuit of the very thing she was doing right now. She had overcome all of that. She was going to suit up for a professional game tonight, the second that puck dropped, she’d have officially made it. (She wouldn’t care if she didn’t get even a single second of ice time, she had made it).

In her reverie, she wasn’t aware of the small woman who had entered the rink, opening the door between the two benches. It was only when that door closed that she looked up to find the sound. She noticed Waverly, holding what looked like a newspaper in one hand, and a list of sorts in the other. Looking up at Nicole, she smiled brightly.

“Hey, ready for the big game?” Waverly chimed happily.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Kinda nervous, but that’s to be expected.”

“I’d say I was surprised to see you here so early, but I know you hate to sit around that apartment of yours all day.”

Nicole nodded, smiling at the fact Waverly had remembered the comment she had made in passing a couple weeks ago.

“Yeah, Wynonna actually let me in.” Nicole said, and then at the closer proximity, saw that Waverly was holding the rosters for tonight’s games and the sports section of the morning’s paper. “Whatcha got there?”

“Sports section, my friend Jeremy’s a writer for the paper.”

“No way, he’s the one who did my interview Sunday morning. Said it should be printed in today’s paper.”

Opening the paper, Waverly scanned the pages for any sign of Jeremy’s article. From the headlines she could catch, she saw the big hoopla around Shae (and her face plastered on the front of the section) and Jenna and a preview of the upcoming season for the league as a whole.

“Ooh, here it is! Here you are!” Waverly clapped excitedly and started to read aloud. “ _Get To Know Your Rookie: Nicole Haught, by Jeremy Chetri. I had the privilege of sitting down with Purgatory Blue Devils’ rookie center, Nicole Haught this Sunday at the team’s media day. The 22-year-old center, born in Beaumont, Alberta, grew up in Edmonton and played collegiately for the University of Alberta. ‘I started playing when I was seven or eight,’ says Haught, and notes her versatility on the ice, ‘I primarily play center, but I’ll go wherever I’m needed if it helps the team.’”_

Waverly paused at the end of Nicole’s quote, and she thought that maybe that had been the end of the piece, but she just smiled at her and continued reading.

 _“Growing up as an Edmonton kid, Haught names the Edmonton Oilers as her favorite team growing up, but also notes that ‘my guilty pleasure team is the Bruins’.”_ Waverly stopped to laugh at this one. “Boston Bruins? Really? Isn’t that like _violently_ unCanadian?”

“Yeah yeah.” Nicole waved it off, and Waverly picked up reading again.

 _“Sticking with the theme, Haught says that Gretzky was a favorite of hers growing up watching her uncle’s tapes of the Great One, and says that if she had to pick an NHL player that she models her game after, it would be Boston’s Patrice Bergeron because of his play on both sides of the puck, and his mix of work ethic and skill.—_ I guess we’ll have to see that tonight then, huh?” Waverly teased.

“You know, that’s such a weird question to answer,” Nicole said, suddenly subconscious of her answer. She probably sounded pretentious, comparing herself to such a big star. “I mean, I just play and do as much as I can to help the team, it’s not like I’m out there trying to be someone else.”

“Relax, Nicole, I’m sure that Patrice Bergeron has _nothing_ on Nicole Haught.” Waverly said jokingly, placing a comforting hand on Nicole’s arm. It had its intended effect of easing the anxiety that came with her trying to fill in _humongous_ shoes. Waverly picked up where she left off. “ _Switching subjects to a more personal note in the interview, I asked Nicole if she had a favorite nickname that she had picked up over the years of playing: ‘You know, the only one that’s ever stuck was “Red”, for obvious reasons, but there’s the standard “Nic” or “Nicky”, nothing too extravagant.’—_ What about the ones Wynonna gives you? What are they again, Haught Shot? Ginger Spice?...”

Nicole laughed at the mention of those names, even if she wasn’t always fond of them.

“I didn’t use them just because no one on the team calls me that, so it’s not really a hockey nickname.” She explained, and Waverly nodded. “Is that it?” She asked, not remembering what else Jeremy had asked, her memory blanking out much of the exhausting day.

“There’s one more part here.” The other girl answered, as she scanned the page. _“Outside of hockey, Haught studied Criminal Justice and Psychology at the University of Alberta, and she told me if she hadn’t been drafted, she would have entered the police academy—_ How noble, Officer Haught.” Waverly continued to tease, and Nicole rolled her eyes playfully. _“My final question for Nicole was related to her draft position. In this June’s entry draft, Haught was taken by the Blue Devils with the final pick of the entire draft. When I asked her about what being taken with that pick meant to her she said, ‘It’s an honor to be taken, no matter where or when it happens. For me, being taken that late only motivates me to work harder for the team that took that chance on me. I want to show them that they were right to do so, and I won’t let them down.’ On behalf of the Purgatory Gazette staff, we wish Nicole and the rest of the Blue Devils the best of luck as they take on the Victoria Tigers tonight (Tuesday, October 8) at 7:00 pm.”_

She found herself quite impressed by Jeremy’s article, finding it surprisingly articulate in comparison to his awkwardness in person.

“So can ya give me any insights into the gameplan for tonight?” Waverly asked eagerly.

“Honestly just to play clean.” Nicole shrugged. Nedley hadn’t put in any fancy gameplan or anything, but had drilled them on the fundamentals and playing a clean, smart game. The film they had watched in their sessions had made it clear to Nicole that the team’s previous struggles had a lot to do with them trying to do too much and turning the puck over far too frequently. “Nedley just wants us to play a smart game, make the simple play. He’s super by the book, but he knows his shit.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to it. It’s been a long time since there was any real excitement around hockey in this town.” Waverly explained with a smile that lit up her eyes. Nicole knew that the local high school team had had its fair share of struggles and the last time there was any hockey success was when Nedley had been drafted to Calgary Flames in the late 70s.

“I’m looking forward to finally playing games instead of practicing every day.” She shared Waverly’s infectious smile. “And what about you? Best seat in the house tonight, right? Between the benches?”

“I can’t wait. Stats are kinda my jam. And I’m so close to the action. It’s all so perfect!” The small brunette practically squeaked, clasping her hands together in excitement.

Nicole’s cheeks hurt from smiling, not that she was complaining. Something about the girl in front of her was so light and happy and she couldn’t help but find it adorable to hear Waverly be so excited about something. By now she could hardly deny it anymore—she had something that may have resembled a crush on her. But, again, Waverly still had a boyfriend (despite his scarcity of late), and Nicole had to respect that.

“ _Babygirl!”_ They both turned up to look at Wynonna yelling across the rink to Waverly.

“Well, I gotta go.” Waverly said, having work to do around the rink. With today being game day, there were added responsibilities, and Nicole had gotten to know Wynonna enough to know that the younger Earp would have to help counteract her sister’s general lack of desire to set up a locker room or empty trash bins. “If I don’t see you before the game, good luck. I know you’ll do great!”

Waverly gave her the biggest smile and then skipped off to work, leaving Nicole with more than just gameday butterflies to contend with.

\---

From the tunnel Nicole could feel the buzzing of the arena. She’d never have figured that a women’s sport league would garner so much hype, but she could tell the place was sold out. The vibration of the cheering and the music in the building was like a drug.

The stadium announcer (Waverly had said that his name was Perry, albeit through a giggle and a comment about him being an ex-fling of Wynonna’s), started with pregame introductions, starting with the Tigers’ lineups first, before moving to introduce the whole Blue Devils’ roster for the season. They went by jersey number, and with Jenna wearing the number 14 sweater in front of her, Nicole took a deep breath to try to settle her nerves one last time. This was it; she felt the rumble of the stands above her as Perry called her name next.

_“At center, number fifteen, Nicole Haught!”_

She skated out to where her teammates were standing and banging their sticks on the ice, the crowd cheering. She took it all in as she strode. The lights, the music, the cheering, the way she especially noticed Waverly clapping for her from between the benches, wearing the hoodie Nicole had leant her the first day they met. The sight had turned her into a gay mess on top of the nervous mess she had been all day.

Shae was last to be announced, since she was the captain, and the crowd had not once stopped cheering and the volume hadn’t diminished in the slightest. The sea of baby blue in the seats was the perfect amount of chaos for a hockey game, waving towels and t-shirts in anticipation. They silenced only when the lights dropped, save for the spotlight on Chrissy Nedley to sing the anthem (and even then, the crowd belted the words to that just as loudly).

Buzzing was the only word to describe it. The vibration and excitement served as a spark for the team, and she was sure she’d never seen any of her teammates look as focused as they had in this moment.

As the anthem died down, the teams went to their respective benches. Nicole joined her teammates as they stood at the door, gathered around Nedley giving his pregame speech. He stood in front of them, as impassioned as Nicole had ever seen him, though still extremely stoic, all dressed up in his suit, topped with a Stetson in keeping with his nickname of Sheriff.

“Alright, this is what we’ve worked for. Do your jobs and do them well and we’ll come out of this with the win.” It was short, but simple and to the point. Very Nedley of him.

The starters took the ice and Nicole and the others filed into the bench. Nedley took his place alongside his assistant Lonnie, and Doc, Rosita and Kate had also joined the bench, standing in the space behind the seats just in case anyone needed them.

The buildup to game day was officially ended as the referee dropped the puck, the sound of the crowd chanting _“1…2…3…Hockey! Hockey! Hockey!”_ kicking off the season. The first thing Nicole had noticed was how physical this game had been in comparison to her college experience.

Much of the popularity of the CEWHL came from its adherence to most of the NHL rules, including body checking and fighting—both of which had been left out of the women’s college rules and the rules of the other smaller women’s leagues.

The Tigers were vicious, and came out flying, not hesitating in the slightest to throw a hit to get the puck. If the first few minutes showed anything, it was that they were doing a much better job of following Nedley’s gameplan than they were. She heard her coach grumble from behind them, scribbling in a notebook, but not saying anything audibly to the team just yet.

At just over five minutes into the first period, Nicole heard, “ _Finning_ , _Powers, Haught”_ , and her nerves came back in full force. Her first professional shift. She had to prove she was worth the playing time. The forwards on the ice dumped the puck in deep and came to the boards for a change, allowing for Nicole and her linemates to jump on to replace them.

The Tigers were taking advantage of their line change, skating with numbers up the ice, a 3-on-2 against their two defenders. Nicole backchecked furiously, catching up with the trailing Tiger forward just as her teammate had tried to make a pass. Nicole jumped the lane and intercepted the pass. If she had a minute to think, she’d have heard the cheering from the bench for the good play. The energy the crowd had supplied in reaction to the steal gave her a jump to headman the puck up ice on the counterattack. Carrying the puck on her stick, Powers and Finning sprinted to catch up and give her options. As she reached the attacking blue line, Nicole looked down at the puck on her stick before she decided to make a pass up to Powers on her right side.

Unfortunately, the look down at the puck was a split second too long and she was never able to make the pass, a large body stepping up to hit her as she was separated from the puck. She felt a puff of air forced out of her lungs as she fell to the ice, and she heard a voice belonging to Shae Pressman yell out, _“Hey hey! Keep your head up one-five!”_

As she pushed herself back up onto her feet, she got back into the defensive zone after turning the puck over and assisted on defense until Miller covered the puck and they changed lines.

 _Not a great first shift_ , Nicole thought to herself as she skated back to the bench, catching Waverly give her a small thumbs up from her seat.

“Welcome to the league, rook.” Finning said as she patted Nicole on the back. “Happens to the best of us. Next time, make the pass—you had the right instinct, just the wrong execution.”

She nodded and smiled as she grabbed a bottle of water to rehydrate and catch her breath.

Her next couple of shifts went a little better, as she followed the plan, and moved the puck quickly, making sure to keep her head up. She took the shots when she had the opportunity to and she worked hard along the boards to win puck battles. She had lost both of the faceoffs she took in the first period, but was closer on the second one, just outmuscled in the tie up. Defensively, she did her best to keep up with the speedy forwards and to keep her stick in the passing lanes.

It appeared that after the first five minutes had passed, the team settled and was sticking to the gameplan. Nedley didn’t have too much to say at the intermission beyond _“Keep working ladies.”_

And work they did, although they started to get away from the gameplan as the game went on. They were being heavily outshot and turning the puck over in the neutral zone from trying to make the pretty play instead of the higher percentage plays. The Tigers were on attack and had the Devils on their heels. If it weren’t for Miller standing on her head, they’d be completely out of the game.

Nicole herself found it hard to find space to make plays and was getting worn down from playing defense so much. The times she found herself in the offensive zone, she had gotten a couple shots off and a good set-up pass to Powers, but nothing that really challenged the goaltender.

They were being thoroughly outskated and outmuscled, but by some small miracle, they took the lead with a minute remaining in the second period as Shae danced through four Tiger defenders all the way up the ice and picked the top corner with her shot, sending the crowd into a frenzy.

Despite the lead, Nedley was far from thrilled with their second period performance. Drilling them for the entirety of the fifteen-minute rest, he made it clear that they need to find their skating legs and win some battles. One goal surely couldn’t be relied on to get them the win, and they knew that the Tigers would come out even hungrier and harder now that they were trailing in the final period. If they put on a repeat performance of that second period, conceding a goal was almost inevitable.

As the puck dropped to start the last 20 minutes, Nicole could feel the tension in the air. It was what had made her fall in love with the sport. The feeling of the game being on the line, one play being the make-or-break. (It felt good to have the lead in this situation, but didn’t relax anyone on the bench). They needed to skate harder, and preferably score another goal.

She heard her name called for her first shift of the third period and sat up on the edge of the board, ready to jump in, only to watch the puck be absolutely wired past Miller from the blueline. Nicole wasn’t even sure the goaltender had a chance to see it, but suddenly the game was tied.

One uneventful shift later, Nicole was sat in between her linemates, focusing their energy on getting the next goal. The intensity had no doubt picked up, the checking got harder as space and time were hard to come by as the seconds ticked away, the score still knotted at one goal apiece.

It was crunch time. Tie game in the third period. The shifts got shorter and the game got faster. As Nicole stepped onto the ice for her shift with just three minutes left, it felt like now or never. She wanted—needed—to make a play. She won herself a battle on the boards, taking a shove to move the puck up to Finning. Her linemate had some space and took it, taking the puck from the defensive zone up to the attacking blue line. She met some pressure there, opting to dump the puck in and let it come down to a chase. Nicole knew it was time to win herself a 50/50 battle.

She kicked it into high gear and muscled her way through the girl trying her best to lock her down, reaching the puck first. Almost crashing into the boards, she played the puck, and unsurprisingly found herself being pressed up against them by one of the Tiger defenders. They dug and kicked, battling for supremacy, and Nicole gave her best and then some, but the defender was bigger and stronger and finally pulled the puck away from the scrum. She heard the bench call for a line change, but unwilling to squander an opportunity, Nicole followed the girl with the puck and tried to swat it off of her stick.

And that’s where it went wrong.

It happened in slow motion. The swipe of her stick, missing the puck, getting her stick tangled in the skates of the puck carrier, the girl falling to the ice, the whistle of the referee. It was a cheap penalty, that she knew, and her stomach sank in realization that she had probably royally fucked her team.

“ _Blue Devils penalty, number fifteen Nicole Haught, two minutes for tripping.”_ The announcement came over the loudspeaker.

 _Way to go Haught_ , she thought to herself on the walk of shame to the penalty box, _a bad penalty with 2:24 left in a tie game, perfect_.

The slamming of the door to the penalty box cemented her fate to watch most of the rest of the game, unless the Tigers scored—but then they’d surely lose the game. She submitted to her fate and watched the penalty killing unit try to clean up her mess.

As it turns out, the Tigers’ power play was just as good, if not better than, their even strength. Nicole counted at least six shots on goal in roughly ninety seconds, with a couple of hit posts mixed in. She held her breath as a loose puck in front of the net almost found its way across the line, only to be smothered by Miller. Looking at the scoreboard, she saw there were three seconds left on her penalty, and twenty-seven left on the clock. She stood in anticipation of being let out of the box as Jenna settled in for the faceoff. Tying up the opposing center, Jenna gave Shae the perfect amount of time to jump in and take the puck just as Nicole had left the box. Shae’s clearing attempt landed right on Nicole’s stick just past the red line and she had nothing but clean ice in front of her and what was essentially the game on her stick.

Sizing up the goalie as she sprinted toward the net, she saw daylight just above the catching hand of her opponent. It’d have to be a perfect shot to get there past the goalie, but with so little time left, there was only one thing to do.

It had to be a perfect shot, but it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. A disaster more like.

The puck flew a good three feet wide of the net and hit the boards with a loud echo. To make things worse, Nicole felt herself slide to the ice as she lost her edge thanks to the defender bearing down on her, and all she could do as she got up was watch the Tigers’ right winger pick up the puck and skate it into the zone, wind up and fire the puck right past Miller with ease.

The air was sucked out of the building, just like it had been sucked out of her lungs. They had conceded in the dying seconds of the third, and 1.3 seconds was hardly enough time to get an equalizer.

Shae fixed her with the meanest glare Nicole had ever seen and she felt her blood drain from her face. She took a seat on the bench and waited for the game to end, the arena filling with _boo’s_ as the final horn sounded and the team exited the ice as quickly as possible to avoid witnessing the opposing team congratulate each other on their ice.

The locker room was silent as they filed in and undressed. A few of the girls were being interviewed by local stations and league reporters, but once they had all filed in, Nedley came in, and grumbled something about a hard fight and disappointing ending, though Nicole could hardly hear it, she was so dismayed.

She had cost them the game, and she couldn’t help but imagine the looks on the other girls’ faces. They were probably sending her death glares.

Nedley left them shortly after her joined them, giving them the next day off to recoup and regroup before practicing to comeback and play Saturday. The other girls changed and left quickly, but Nicole had yet to even take off her jersey.

She sat still and silent in the locker room, and soon she was alone.

In the stillness of the locker room, she ruminated in the negativity of losing the game in that manner, ripping off her jersey and throwing it violently into the bin in the middle of the room. When the action did nothing to release any of her anger, she took to the bin itself and flipped it with a loud grunt, sending the dirty laundry flying across the floor.

She shouted into the empty room, hoping it would quell the rage and disappointment in herself. Maybe all the people who doubted her did have some validity to their argument. If tonight showed her anything, it was that she could clearly not be trusted to come through in clutch time.

“ _God damnit!”_ she yelled, and tossed her helmet at the wall in frustration.


	6. You Could Use A Cold One Right Now

It was too late for this.

The Devils had just lost and Wynonna had had to help a security guard break up a drunken brawl between some of the fans leaving the game (which was so not in her job description, but admittedly more fun than cleaning up towels and doing laundry). She cursed the schedule rotation for putting her on locker room duty after the night’s game. A long day at the rink was compounded by the fact that Waverly had left her at work to have a get together with Chrissy Nedley and Stephanie Jones, leaving her to do all the work herself.

Waverly’s little party also meant that she was in _no rush_ to get home anytime soon. She couldn’t stand most of the people her sister called friends. Chrissy was alright, but Stephanie was an airhead and a bitch (but not in the fun way), and Champ was a downright _douche—_ or moron, take your pick.

She cleared the visitor’s locker room first, seeing as it was smaller and had less stuff left behind, and grumbled as she walked down the tunnel to the home locker room.

The Devils should’ve all been cleared out by now, she figured, so it came as a bit of a shock to her when she heard angry growling and the sound of something being flipped over from inside. Wynonna _almost_ turned away to let whoever was clearly still in there make their way out, but she was also nothing if not nosy, and she pushed her way into the room anyway.

She heard a distressed: _“God damn it!”_ and had to duck out of the way of a flying hockey helmet as she entered the locker room.

It was _really_ too late for this.

“What the hell man?” She growled before she could even register her assailant. When she did look up, she saw a wide-eyed Nicole Haught looking absolutely mortified, alone in the locker room.

“Oh my God Wynonna, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what got into me, and…and…” Nicole rambled apologetically, although uncharacteristically frantic. In the just under a month that she had known the redhead, Wynonna had known her to be level-headed and confident, albeit a bit too stuffy and strait-laced for her liking.

There was no denying that the woman in front of her bore little resemblance to the one Wynonna had grown accustomed to, standing there, still in her skates and pads from the game, next to the laundry bin turned over and the jerseys splayed across the floor.

“You know, normally I’d kill you for that,” she teased, but upon seeing Nicole’s face drop, she dropped it for a softer approach. _Gross_. “But…you look like you’re in a mood, so I’ll let it slide.”

Nicole released a breath but still looked tense.

“Hey, you good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Nicole said, rather unconvincingly, but Wynonna could see her struggle to keep her pride intact.

“No, you’re not. You just flipped a laundry bin and tried to kill me with a helmet, not to mention you’re still dressed up like you’re gonna go play even though the game’s been over for an hour. Now what you’re gonna do is go get changed and join me in the office.” Wynonna said, and silenced her when Nicole tried to protest. “Ah ah ah, Tater Haught, I’m not taking no for an answer. _Now get.”_

She shooed the ginger off who went with hesitation, but no protest. With a heavy sigh and a groan, Wynonna bent down to pick up the mess Nicole had made in the room.

Once Nicole had changed and deposited her laundry bag into the bin, she walked over to the door where her helmet was lying and sheepishly picked it up.

“Wynonna, I really am sorry, and thank you for picking up the mess, I didn’t mean to cause such a disaster.”

Wynonna accepted the apology, and waved Nicole to follow her as she pushed the bin down toward the laundry room. Job done, she led the both of them to the office. She opened a door under the desk, revealing a mini fridge from which she produced two bottles of beer. She slouched down and sat against the back of the desk, patting the floor next to her for Nicole to join her.

“I don’t know Wynonna, it’s late and I really should—” Nicole said with a hesitancy about her.

“Your drinking ban is over, and your mental breakdown back there tells me you need a cold one right now, so _sit_.”

Nicole did as she was told, lowering herself to the floor and accepting the bottle.

“So, Red, what’s bothering you?”

She watched the younger woman tense and take a heavy swig from her beer.

“I think everyone on the team might hate me.”

“Bullshit.” Wynonna scoffed, unbelieving of what she had just heard.

“Well, it makes total sense, I blew the game. I had a chance to win and then I fell like I’ve never even skated before and they scored, and we lost.”

“Dude, shit happens, relax why don’t you? Why would everyone hate you for that? It’s not like they scored on their chances either.”

“Well yeah,” Nicole conceded, still appearing dejected, but at least she acknowledged Wynonna’s admittedly good advice. “But nobody would talk to me after the game and there were glares at me right after they scored, and the _booing_. I’m starting to believe that maybe I actually don’t belong here.”

Wynonna rolled her eyes, unable to believe the words she was hearing.

“First off, was anyone talking to anyone after the game?” She asked. Nicole shook her head no. “And who the fuck cares if they were glaring at you? At least you took your chance, so what if you royally fucked it up?” Wynonna could tell Nicole wanted to be offended and pissed at her, but the words had a elicited a small smile from the redhead instead. “And why wouldn’t you think you belong here? You’re kinda a stud out there.”

Nicole sighed. Wynonna had never quite seen a vulnerability to the girl who seemingly always oozed confidence and levelheadedness. Suddenly very interested in the label on her bottle, Nicole’s shoulders slackened and she visibly deflated.

“My _whole life_ nobody has really been in my corner. Except my aunt and uncle, but they’ve been gone for years now. Nobody believed I could get here; said I should give up on hockey. That I should stop stupidly chasing a pipe dream. I used to ignore it because this was something I really wanted, but god, what if they were all right?”

“I’m gonna need you to shut that bullshit up chief. Anyone with eyes could see you belong out there. Give yourself a bit more credit, Haught.”

She was glad to draw a smile out of the dejected redhead, though she was sure the alcohol in her system was helping to loosen her up.

“Wynonna?” Nicole asked, taking another sip from her bottle. Wynonna nodded for her to proceed. “Remember when you asked me the most reckless thing I’ve ever done?”

“I distinctly remember saying rebellious, but yeah.”

“You wanna know what it is?”

“More than anything.” She said excitedly, more than a little curious to learn about the hoity-toity ginger.

“Okay, so when I was applying to University, I did an overnight with the hockey team at UofA. Followed around one of the freshmen to class, and I got to sit behind the bench at their game.” Nicole started, Wynonna nodding along attentively. “After the game, we went out to a party at one of the senior’s houses and wanting to fit in, I got a _little_ more than tipsy, but the other girls were _smashed_. At some point in the night things got well…”

“Say no more, Naughty Haughty, you got lucky with a senior guy at a frat party.” Wynonna praised. “Although in terms of recklessness, it’s a bit boring don’t you think?”

Nicole tried to suppress a chuckle, but failed.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it _getting lucky_ , and it definitely wasn’t with a guy, but it did help me figure out I was about as straight as Elton John and Freddie Mercury combined.” Wynonna couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Things were fine at first, she kissed me in the corner of the room, which caught me by surprise, and then things got heavy, and the next morning I woke up in the senior captain’s bed.”

“Way to go red!” Wynonna congratulated Nicole, offering her a high five, that Nicole didn’t accept and instead averted her gaze to the floor.

“She freaked out and yelled and all but threw me out of her room.” She sighed sadly. “I was seventeen and just figured out I was gay as fuck and after my first experience with a girl, she kicked me out and swore up and down that she was straight and I that was disgusting. She acted like she wasn’t the one who shoved her tongue down my throat and fucked me into submission the night before…sorry TMI.” Wynonna grimaced at the image for just a moment, but shook it off. She had her own fair share of stories anyway. “It wasn’t a great feeling, but in hindsight maybe that’s what I get for hooking up with a 22-year-old in obvious denial.”

“I take it back, losing your v-card and figuring out you were gay on the same night you hooked up with the hockey captain is reckless as fuck.” Wynonna saluted her with her now empty beer bottle. “Quick question.”

“Which is…?”

“What song was playing when Captain Closet kissed you?”

“How is that relevant?”

“I need context, Haught.”

“I don’t see how that’d help.”

“You were at a party, logic only states that there was music…maybe some red plastic cups, some twinkly little fairy lights in a frat house…bringing back any memories?”

Nicole sighed heavily, giving in to Wynonna’s pressuring. “Britney.” She told her. “ _Toxic.”_

Wynonna couldn’t help the absolutely ungodly cackles that escaped her mouth when she heard what Nicole had said.

“Oh man, that is _perfect_.” She said, unable to control her laughter.

“God, I guess I _really_ should have known.” The other girl next to her joined her in soft laughter at the irony of that situation. It lasted for a passing moment until Nicole’s eyes got sad again, and so Wynonna reached into the fridge to grab another two bottles, passing one to her.

An awkward silence set in as they twisted the tops off of the fresh beers.

“Shae hates me.”

“Smoking hot team captain Shae Pressman hates you?”

Nicole nodded.

“She’s hated me for five years. She’s the one behind the hazing and she’s _so_ standoffish around me, I know why, but you’d think she’d get over it.”

The wheels were turning in Wynonna’s head, trying to understand what Nicole meant.

“Why would she hate you for so long? What does she have to get over anyw— _ohhhh!”_ Wynonna came to the realization and Nicole nodded her head in confirmation. “Dude, _no way_. You hooked up with _her_? Shae?”

“Yup.”

“Wait she thought she was straight?”

“I’m pretty sure she still does.”

“Talk about oblivious. I just assumed she was gay from the _everything_ about her.”

Nicole nodded in agreement.

The silence fell over them again, and Wynonna figured it was her turn to break it by changing the subject entirely.

“You wanna know why I don’t really want to go home just yet?” She asked.

“Why?”

“Waverly is having the world’s lamest party to celebrate her being single and Stephanie Jones’ stupid engagement.” She saw the question on Nicole’s face and decided to answer it before she even asked. “She broke up with Champ a couple weeks ago, ‘bout time if you ask me.”

“Why is it the world’s lamest party?”

“Because I know exactly who’s there. It’s her, Chrissy Nedley—”

“—Sheriff’s daughter?” Nicole asked, interrupting. Wynonna confirmed.

“And Stephanie Jones. As far as friends go, I don’t know how Waverly managed to willingly surround herself with the _Stephanies_ and the _Champs_ of the world.” Wynonna grumbled into the bottle in her hand. “You know one time, Stephanie told me I should think about getting a butt lift.” She rolled her eyes at the thought.

“What?” Nicole asked, voice slightly drawled from her alcohol consumption and full of shock. “Your ass it’s…it’s top shelf man. Top shelf.”

“ _Thank you._ ” Wynonna smirked, feeling her own beer just a bit now. “I just don’t know, I’m not all that fond of her friends. They hold her back…”

“You know what I think,” Nicole drawled, a smile lighting up her alcohol-hazy eyes, “I think Waverly has spent her _whole life_ tailoring herself to the people she’s with, she’s only just now figuring out what she really wants.”

_This_ Nicole was more like the one Wynonna knew. Confident, not mopey, annoyingly noble…and cheesy.

“Dude you’re like a walking bumper sticker—who’s a professional athlete. Waverly should be hanging out with you.”

“I agree.” Nicole smiled, a twinkle in her eyes that even drunk Wynonna couldn’t place.

“Hey.” She slapped Nicole on the shoulder. “We should make a bet.”

“I don’t make bets when I’m drunk.”

“Dude, _come on_ , you’ve had like one beer, you can’t be drunk,” Wynonna pushed, very used to getting her way, “and besides, it’s a good bet.”

“ _Ugh, fine_. What is it?”

“You,” she jabbed her pointer finger into the side of Nicole’s head, “have to score like a _bajillion_ goals next game to make up for losing tonight.”

“Well, I hardly think a bajillion is possible in one game, or a number… _is_ bajillion a number?” Nicole frowned in questioning.

“I mean yeah probably, but still, okay, okay I bet you that you can’t score eight goals next game.”

“Yeah you’re probably right.” Nicole conceded.

“You’re not supposed to _agree_ with me, that’s not how bets work.” She scoffed.

“That’s also not how hockey games work.” The redhead retorted quickly.

“Fine, fine, fine. Five?”

“How ‘bout we start with one?” Nicole proposed.

“Four.”

“ _No_ , Wynonna.”

“Three, take it or leave it.”

She saw Nicole think it over and accept the challenge.

“Okay so I score three goals next game or what happens?”

“If you don’t score all those goals, then…” Wynonna paused, trying to think of something that was beneficial to her and enough of a punishment for the redhead, “you have to clean the men’s restrooms every time I’m scheduled on bathroom duty for the next month.”

Nicole scrunched her face in disgust at the thought. Wynonna knew how gross those things were—she found herself centimeters from vomiting every time she walked in to one. What _was_ it with guys? Was it really that hard to not destroy the bathroom?

“Okay, what’s in it for me? If I win?”

“Then…you get your team to stop hating you.” Wynonna’s smirk quickly turned to a frown when Nicole slapped her on the arm.

“Fuck that Wynonna.”

“Fine, okay,” she rose her hands in concession, “fifty bucks?”

Nicole pondered this, but didn’t accept.

“Fifty bucks and I’ll warn you any time Champ is in the vicinity?” Was Wynonna’s revised offer.

“Deal.” They shook as Wynonna grabbed them another round from the fridge.


	7. Three For The Money

Saturday morning, Waverly awoke for game day again, knowing she wouldn’t have to wait around all day to watch the team play. The Peg City Pirates were in town from Winnipeg for a noontime matinee game against the Blue Devils. She was hoping for a better ending to today’s game, knowing how unruly the fans got after Tuesday night’s heartbreaker. Leave it to Purgatorians to all but trash the place in their “sports yelling and down-falling”, as Nicole had called it.

She couldn’t help but feel for Nicole, seeing how the game ended last time. She knew Nicole blamed herself, she could see it all over her face from where she sat between the benches. That, and the redhead had showed up to the rink on Wednesday, looking less than fresh and rested, visibly deflated the whole day at work. She’d tried her best to cheer the girl up all day, but barely earned anything more than a small half-smile.

They arrived at the arena later than Waverly would have liked, groaning at the fact they were out of coffee at the homestead and didn’t have time to stop for some. She looked through the office hopeful to find some to fill the staff coffee machine that was honestly probably older than she was, but found only Wynonna’s mini fridge missing more than a few beers.

“Calm down babygirl,” she heard her sister say from the other side of the room near the rental skates, “Robin’s got donuts in Champ’s mechanic room and we’ve got a coffee delivery com—oh, perfect it’s here.”

A knock on the ticket window came as Wynonna spoke, and Waverly turned around to see a just-woken-up-looking Nicole carrying two paper coffee cups. Waverly waved her around to enter through the office door.

Nicole handed Wynonna one of the cups, which the woman accepted greedily and took off to presumably grab a donut.

With a smile, Nicole extended the second cup to Waverly. Written on the outside of the cup was her own name in Nicole’s handwriting next to an adorably drawn smiley face.

“Made with almond milk.” Nicole’s smile lit up her eyes as Waverly accepted the offering.

“Thank you.” She grinned. “But, what about you?”

“I can’t drink coffee on game days on account that it’s dehydrating and banned by Sheriff Nedley.” Nicole explained. “Wynonna texted me, asked me to bring some coffee, so I did.”

She rolled her eyes. _Of course_ Wynonna would.

“You know she’s not your boss, you didn’t _have_ to do that for her.”

“Who says I did it for her?” Nicole smirked, and Waverly hoped she was imagining the wink because it sent a shot through her chest and into her stomach. She knew Nicole could be smooth when she wanted to, but this one had caught her off guard so very early in the morning. “Anyway, she gets me on the ice before everyone else, so the least I can do is bring coffee. Really, I don’t mind.”

“Well, thank you then.”

“I’m gonna actually get on the ice in a few minutes, what do ya say to joining me?”

“Oh, uh,” she stammered for a moment, well aware that this was now the second time in very close succession that the other girl had left her just ever so slightly flustered. Realistically, any work she needed to get done pregame could be handled during warmups, but she was still able to find an excuse. “Yeah, I’d love to, but I don’t wanna intrude on your pregame ritual though.”

“Nonsense, I asked you.”

Nicole’s face was so sincere and inviting, and it really did seem like fun to go out on the ice, so she really didn’t have any excuse _not_ to join her, did she?

“Okay. I’ll grab some skates and see you out there.”

Normally, Waverly would prefer to have her own skates, but because of the game today, the public skate was cancelled, and so she left her skates back home. Finding a pair of rentals in her size, she grabbed them and laced them up before going into the rink area to wait for Nicole.

Said girl emerged from the locker room just as Waverly had entered, carrying two water bottles, and wearing her biggest smile. She seemed to be in better spirits than the other day, which Waverly herself was glad for. A sad Nicole was not something she really liked; she hated seeing her friends upset.

They joined each other on the ice, enjoying the first few strides and the sounds their blades on the surface.

“How has your morning been?” Nicole asked, “You know, besides the whole waking up at the butt crack of dawn and not having coffee deal?”

Waverly fought the intrusive urge to say, _“Better now that I’m with you”,_ but quickly pushed it aside, one: not knowing where the _heck_ that came from, and two: more than a little uneasy at the butterflies that the sincerity in Nicole’s voice had given her.

“Alright,” she responded instead, “I’ll be better after you guys kick some ass today.”

“Maybe I’ll just have to score you a goal for good measure.” Nicole said with another fucking wink, which Waverly definitely _knew_ was there this time.

“Someone’s cocky.” Waverly quipped, though she was sure Nicole could tell how flustered she was by the comment.

 _God, what was wrong with her?_ The comment didn’t even mean anything, she was talking about scoring goals. _Get a hold of yourself, Earp_.

“Not cocky, just driven.”

“Alright, I’ll be expecting that goal then.”

They skated for a few moments, using the activity as an opportunity to wake themselves up. Waverly found herself sneaking glances here and there at Nicole, looking away just as quickly and feeling heat in her cheeks. She wasn’t really sure what had gotten into her recently, but ever since she had broken up with Champ, the redhead next to her kept popping up into her thoughts with increasing frequency.

It terrified her to no end.

They stopped at the bench where Nicole took one of the water bottles for a drink, offering the other to Waverly.

“I know you have coffee, but I didn’t wanna come out here with water for myself and leave you out.”

The summersaults her stomach was doing at the simple gesture of simply _thinking of her_ , well let’s just say it had been a while since Champ had cared about whether or not Waverly was left out or didn’t reciprocate something.

“Hey Waves?” Nicole asked after their impromptu water break/pregame hydration session. Waverly nodded and hummed her response. “Wanna play a game?”

“Wh-huh?”

Before she could even formulate a response, Nicole had pushed a hand onto her shoulder and yelled a “ _Tag! You’re it!”_ before sprinting across the rink.

“Ohh, you’re on Haught!” She yelled, taking off in the competitive spirit of the game. Realistically, playing tag on skates with a professional hockey player was probably not the best idea, but Waverly loved a challenge and hated losing. (Not that there really was a winner or loser in tag, was there?)

She chased after the redhead, who was skating backwards and taunting Waverly like they were on the playground in kindergarten. She narrowed her eyes and sprinted harder.

They played a few rounds, chasing each other without a care in the world—besides the competitive fire between the two of them. Neither of them wanted to be _it_ longer than they needed to. On one turn, Nicole had tagged her and did a cocky little spin move after, yelling “Catch me if you can” before zooming away. Unwilling to let her be that fucking smug, Waverly took off as fast as her rental skates would carry her.

And in that lied the problem: the rental skates. The unfamiliar blades failed her just as she had gotten close enough to tag Nicole, who had turned her back on Waverly to sprint away. She felt it happen; she toepicked and started to topple forward. Nicole had just enough time to turn around to catch Waverly, but was knocked off balance and Waverly felt the both of them falling to the ice.

 _This is gonna hurt_ , she thought. But it didn’t.

She landed on something soft, which she knew was Nicole. She was about to apologize when she heard Nicole burst out into a fit of giggles that Waverly couldn’t stop herself from joining in. Instead of getting up, they sat there in their laughter, and Waverly couldn’t remember the last time something so simple and stupid as a game of tag made her so effortlessly happy.

“Hey!” There was the yell of a male voice from the Zamboni door. Waverly might’ve worried it had been Champ, except she knew the boy would never be here this early. “What the hell is going on here?”

The two stopped laughing to stand up, seeing the stuffy-looking man in a suit standing on the edge of the ice, looking tensely between the pair and his phone. She looked at Nicole as they skated toward the man, the redhead looking like she had just been called to the principal’s office, a little (totally _not_ adorable) worry wrinkle forming between her brows. The reason for this, of course, was that the man about to reprimand them was none other than General Manager and Director of Operations, Xavier Dolls. He was Nicole’s boss’ boss, making him doubly in charge of her.

“I can’t have you out here injuring my players.” Dolls had said pointedly to Waverly, who was taken aback by his straightforwardness. “And you,” he said to Nicole, “can’t be getting hurt at all, but especially not outside of the game, screwing around doing… _what_ exactly are you doing?”

“We were, uh, playing tag, sir.” Nicole said, looking down, biting the inside of her cheek in an attempt to stifle her laughter, a strange mix of guilt with a twinge of amusement on her face at the words.

“Jesus, okay,” Dolls pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed tiredly, like this was so _not_ a part of his job. “Well stop that. I’d appreciate that you live up to the _professional_ part of your job title.”

Nicole nodded. “Sorry, sir. Just wanted to get a skate in before the game later.”

“Right.” He said, a bit suspiciously, eying the pair. “Haught, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t let me catch you doing anything that could endanger the success of this team, or, well let’s just say you won’t like the consequences.”

And like that, he was gone.

“Did he just...threaten to trade you for _playing tag_?” She couldn’t help but laugh at just how ridiculous that sounded.

Nicole burst into giggles with her.

“Yeah, I think so.”

\---

Waverly took her place in between the benches as the fans started to trickle in. Champ was finishing up an initial sweep of the ice for the teams to come and warm up, and Robin had reluctantly turned off the Colin Stetson song he was playing, switching it to the warmup tape the Devils provided. She flicked through the stat sheets and roster cards she’d be in charge of for the game.

The Pirates spilled out of the locker room and onto the ice for warmups and Waverly couldn’t help but notice just how _massive_ every single one of them appeared to be. Quite literally sizing up today’s competition, she looked at the names on the Pirates’ sheet. The heights of the opposing girls went on with little variation: _5’10”, 6’1”, 6’1”, 6’2”, 5’11”, 6’4"_ …Waverly noted that the smallest girl on their team was taller than the majority of the Devils. She knew that in the physicality department, they were at a disadvantage, but hoped that Nedley had put them on a speed gameplan. Size would only get you so far, and speed killed.

Shae exited the tunnel (wearing a scowl on her face) shortly thereafter and Waverly subconsciously found herself waiting for Nicole to pop out onto the ice. When she finally did spot the redhead in the number fifteen sweater, she looked like she was going to throw up, pass out, or both. Waverly couldn’t help but think about their interaction with Dolls earlier this morning, and hoped that there hadn’t been any serious repercussions tied to something so trivial as playing a child’s game.

Waverly really couldn’t bring herself to feel bad about the interaction, knowing it was the most blissfully simple life had been in a while. She could hardly deny that the last few years had been hectic, and her world felt topsy-turvy ever since Curtis died, but there was something more to it that she couldn’t quite place. Something that had flipped her on her head yet again right around the time she broke up with Champ.

She left the seat between the benches after the teams cleared off for Champ to more thoroughly clean the sheet for the game, going up to the office to grab something team-related to wear. She’d worn Nicole’s hoodie last game because she hadn’t had time to get her own, but now she had multiple t-shirts and jackets emblazoned with the team logo. She ducked into the ticket office to grab the navy-blue jacket, watching Wynonna check in a family wearing navy and gold Pirates jerseys, the kids waving little pennants and foam fingers.

“Yo,” Wynonna greeted her once the window had been vacated. “Have you met Mr. _Big City, Leather Loafers_ yet?”

She couldn’t help but be amused by her sister’s comment.

“You mean Dolls? Yeah, I have.”

“I swear that guy has a bigger stick up her ass than Haught does,” Wynonna rolled her eyes. “ _Douche.”_

While she did have to agree that Dolls was a bit uptight, she understood where it came from. Being put in charge of any team, but especially a team that just relocated and had a history of being unsuccessful, she imagined that _stressful_ didn’t even begin to cover it. And working for crotchety old Bunny Loblaw would put pretty much anyone in a sour mood.

“Cut him some slack, he’s got an important, high-pressure job. _And_ he works for Bunny the Bully.”

“An important job?” Wynonna scoffed. “What’s he do? Answer phone calls and scowl all day? Even I could do that. It’s not brain surgery Waves.”

“I think it might be a _little_ more than that.”

“Whatever.” Wynonna dismissed as she turned to the screen on her desk to see Champ finishing up his job on the ice. “You’d better get going, game’s gonna be starting soon.”

With her jacket in hand, she bid Wynonna a see you later, and trotted back toward her post.

The teams were returning back to the ice and she saw Champ and Robin rolling out the carpet for Chrissy to sing the anthem for the game.

“ _And now the starting lineups for YOUR PURRRRRGATORY BLUUUUUE DEVILSSSS!”_ She heard Perry introduce as the benches started to fill. “ _Starting on defense, number forty-four, Charlotte Hansen,”_ there was a pause for cheering as the graphic of the defenseman showed on the big screen in the arena. “ _And number fifty-five, Rylee Adams!”_ A similar pause followed. _“At left wing, number seventy-two, Shannon Finning!...at center, number 15, Nicole Haught!”_ Waverly clapped and cheered especially loudly for her friend, searching for her among the faces on the Devils bench. She still looked pale in the face as she had in warmups, but appeared slightly more composed. It made sense now—Nicole had been nervous to be making her first professional start, though she couldn’t help but think that the redhead would kill it regardless. The only thing Waverly couldn’t quite figure out was why Shae appeared so upset in warmups, though she had a suspicion that it was linked to Nicole’s line starting over hers. _“At right wing, number eleven, Victoria Powers!...And in goal for your Blue Devils, number thirty, Lauren Miller!!!”_

Perry called for the crowd to stand for the anthem and Chrissy sang to an unsurprisingly packed arena. There wasn’t really much to do around Purgatory, and if there was an opportunity to gather and get rowdy, Purgatorians flocked to it like a moth to a flame. (There were a surprising amount of Winnipeg fans in attendance, Waverly noted, but then again they _were_ one of the league’s most popular teams and Pirates fans always traveled in packs).

The starting lineups skated onto the ice, ready for puck drop, and Waverly couldn’t help but chuckle as Nicole settled into her spot at the faceoff dot. For how much she usually towered over people, the entirety of the opposing team made her look average height at best.

As the referee prepared to drop the puck, Waverly switched her brain to a heightened focus, knowing she’d have to record all the shots, faceoffs, hits, blocked shots, penalties and any scoring that would occur over the course of the game. So, when Nicole lost the faceoff, she marked down a win in the faceoff column for _Lewis, Taylor_ and a loss in Nicole’s.

The Pirates used the early advantage to attack the Devils, building pressure in the offensive zone. Waverly marked down four shots on goal for the Pirates before Miller covered the puck and a new set of players spilled over the boards.

Waverly had been correct in her assumption that the Pirates would have a physical advantage due to their sheer size. For the first ten minutes, the Devils were being worn down by the Pirates’ body checking. She’d had to mark down goals for _Palmer, Becky_ and _Holt, Alicia_ as well as the Pirates players with assists on those goals, before Nedley called a timeout, visibly unhappy with his team’s performance. (Being scored on twice in the first ten minutes wasn’t a start anyone wanted or expected).

And then, almost like a switch had been flipped, momentum switched hands.

Nicole’s line came out first thing after the timeout, and not only did they win the faceoff, they used the speed advantage they held and ran the Pirates around their zone and put on a display. Nicole set up Adams at the blue line who faked a slapshot and passed it diagonally across to Finning around the hashmarks. The winger put a shot on goal straight into the netminder’s pads, leaving a big rebound that landed right onto the stick of one Nicole Haught who netted the puck on her own shot.

The horn blared and the arena blew up in cheers and celebration as the Devils on the ice mobbed the redhead who’d just scored her first professional goal. Waverly beamed with her own pride, so she couldn’t even begin to imagine how happy Nicole was in that moment. She gladly made a mark in the assist column next to _Adams, Rylee_ and _Finning, Shannon_ one in the goal column for _Haught, Nicole_.

As she looked up from the action, she saw them approaching the bench for post-goal fist bumps, and saw Nicole point directly at her, as if to say _That one’s for you_. Waverly felt a blush creep into her cheeks and a flutter in her stomach at the genuine smile Nicole wore as she dedicated the goal to her.

Once the game started up again, it was all Devils for the rest of it. As far as stat-keeping went, she was a little burnt out, marking down an inordinate number of hits (mainly on behalf of the Pirates) and shots (mainly on behalf of the Devils). She tallied two more goals and two assists for Nicole, a goal for Powers, Finning, Greene and Wilson, as well as a goal and an assist for Shae Pressman.

The game ended at 8-2 and the chaos in the arena was on the complete opposite end of the spectrum from the energy following Tuesday night’s game. The fans were celebrating in the stands, waving towels and singing along to the songs played over the speakers long after the teams vacated the ice.

She had to make copies of the stat sheets in the office and deliver one to each of the teams and one to league official, and so she pushed her way through the slowly-thinning crowd to make her way to the office. As she did so, she passed the media section and saw not only Jeremy and the local media speaking to Nicole, but also the reporter from TSN and the bigger national sports outlets who had more than likely been in town to follow the nationally popular Pirates.

The joy on the redhead’s face was a stark contrast to the dejection it held following the previous game, even if she did look slightly uncomfortable with all the (well-deserved) attention she was receiving.

Fulfilling her responsibilities, Waverly delivered the stats to their designated recipients and decided it best to help Wynonna finish up with her own post-game obligations. She would have anyway, but was doubly motivated by the fact that Wynonna was her ride home and she was more than eager to go home after a much too early start to the day.

They were walking out of the visitor’s locker room and back toward the home one, finally finished with their rink duties, when they bumped into the game’s number one star, who had been the last one out after being tied up by the various interviewers.

“Well hello there, Hat Trick Haught.” Wynonna called while starting a slow clap for her performance. Nicole took a bow with a proud smile.

“Hello have a game why don’t you.” Waverly congratulated. “Seriously you were on fire out there. What got into you?”

“I told you I’d score one for you.”

“Well who were the other two for then?”

Nicole looked over at Wynonna expectantly who grumbled as she pulled out her wallet and produced fifty dollars in cash and handed it over.

“ _This one_ ,” Nicole nodded at Wynonna, “bet me I couldn’t score three in today’s game, and well I can’t lose a bet now can I?” 

Waverly rolled her eyes, knowing her sister would always find some type of way to get involved.

“No, I guess you can’t. Any plans after the big win?”

“Nah, not really. A lot of the girls are going out with their families, but I’m just honestly so exhausted I was gonna just go back to my apartment and relax.” Nicole said, though Waverly sensed a bit of sadness she had in mentioning family. Waverly knew that Nicole was in town living on her own, but was a bit curious that Nicole’s parents hadn’t even been in attendance for her league debut. And they had missed her star performance today.

“Well, do you wanna come hang with us maybe?” Waverly offered, gesturing between herself and Wynonna. “We were gonna just watch TV and order takeout. You could join us if you’d like. After a game like that you shouldn’t have to go home alone to your apartment.”

Nicole looked for a second like she might politely refuse, not wanting to intrude, but her face quickly brightened at the offer.

“Uh yeah, I’d love to actually, thanks.”

“Fine,” Wynonna interjected. “But you’re buying dinner Haught stuff.”

“Technically, it’s your money Wynonna,” Nicole said with a smirk growing on her face, waving around the fifty she had just won from the woman. “So, I think that you’re buying.”

“ _Yeah, yeah, yeah_ ,” Wynonna rolled her eyes as they headed for the exit.


	8. On The Road (Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder)

**TSN** **@TSN_Sports**

FINAL from #PURGvsPEG: Blue Devils bounce back from Tuesday’s heartbreaker to defeat Peg City Pirates 8-2 on the strength of Nicole Haught’s first career goal and first career hat trick

_12 Oct – 4:35 PM MDT_

\---

 **PURGATORY SPORTS REPORT** **@JeremyC_PG**

Blue Devils rookie Nicole Haught on her performance in today’s win over Peg City: “Scoring your first goal is something every little hockey player dreams of, so obviously I’m excited, but all the credit goes to the team today. Solid team win.”

_12 Oct— 6:00 PM MDT_

\---

**CBC: Monday Night CEWHL Action—Brandon Bobcats defeat Purgatory Blue Devils 3-1**

Hot and cold Devils struggle to find consistency.

_Tuesday, October 15 th_

_\---_

**PURGATORY GAZETTE**

** SPORTS: Up and Down Devils Depart for Road Trip Amid Ownership Tensions **

**Story By: Jeremy Chetri**

_The hometown Blue Devils have not quite sprinted out of the starting blocks, but haven’t exactly stumbled either. The 3-2 Purgatory squad have shown flashes of brilliance in their victories over Peg City, Moose Jaw and most recently last night’s victory over the Red Deer Rampage, but have looked less than average in their losses to Victoria and Brandon. Success is undoubtedly hard to come by in this league, but there are already questions circling about the consistency of the team._

_Despite finishing at the bottom of the league for the last six seasons, the new ownership has high expectations. “I didn’t buy this team for it not to succeed,” says owner Bunny Loblaw. “I expect greatness and I expect them to win. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.” Strong words from the ownership are sure to have tensions running high due to the weight of expectations. General Manager and Director of Hockey Operations, Xavier Dolls, doubled down on Loblaw’s sentiment: “A rebrand and a relocation means a fresh start. The higher ups expect a certain level of performance, and it’s the team and the coaching staff’s jobs to reach that. All we ask is for a little bit of consistency.”_

_The Blue Devils appear to be taken aback by the strong demands. Team captain Shae Pressman was a little more than vocal, saying: “The competition in this league is elite and a complete turnaround isn’t going to happen overnight. I’ve got a lot of faith in the girls on this team, and if the higher ups ease up and give us a little more time to get into the swing of things, we’ll give them the results they want to see.” Coach Nedley backed up his captain’s response, “I’ve been around the game my entire life, I’ve been on both sides of the coin. If you’re a manager and you want your team to succeed, let them know what you expect, but give them a little breathing room to figure it out and do it right.”_

_With a ten-day, five-game road trip looming, it appears the Devils will be put to the test, not only physically, but mentally as well as they navigate their schedule and the murky waters of tension created between them and the team’s ownership._

_The Blue Devils will look to find production from unlikely sources, as rookie center Nicole Haught leads the team in assists and is tied with Shae Pressman for goals with 4 apiece. Other team notables are center Corine Saunders and left winger Mary Anne Johnson._

**_Blue Devils Upcoming Schedule:_ **

_Monday, October 21 @ Sydney Challengers (7:00 pm ADT)_

_Tuesday, October 22 @ Halifax Warriors (7:00 pm ADT)_

_Friday, October 25 @ Summerside Islanders (7:30 pm ADT)_

_Sunday, October 27 @ Charlottetown Storm (1:45 pm ADT)_

_Tuesday, October 29 @ Moncton Cougars (7:00 pm ADT)_

\---

 **SYDNEY CHALLENGERS** **@challengersCEWHL**

CHALLENGERS WIN!

Hannah Boyd nets the GWG with :03 left in OT to defeat @bluedevilsCEWHL 5-4

 _21 Oct_ _—_ _9:57 PM ADT_

\---

Nicole yawned as she pushed her way into the hotel room, throwing herself onto one of the beds. The first few days of this road trip had kicked her ass, and losing tonight’s game in overtime was _not_ helping. For a kid who’d hardly ever traveled out of the province of Alberta, flying clear across the country to Nova Scotia was jarring to say the least. The more seasoned vets had brushed it off like nothing, but Nicole at least took solace in the fact that the other rookies were struggling as well.

She felt her phone vibrate next to her on the bed. She was sure it was a notification from the league’s Twitter page with the results of the night’s games, but couldn’t muster enough energy to do much more than roll over to face the ceiling, groaning more than a little melodramatically when the light in the room was suddenly flipped on.

Her roommates had finally made their way up to the room, returning later than Nicole had because they stopped for food at the one place open after 11:30.

“Heya Red,” Powers said as she threw down her backpack and sat at the small table in the room. “How’s the wheel?”

In her exhaustion, she had almost forgotten her injured leg. She had laid out to block a shot late in the third period and took the puck right in the unpadded area of her leg, right square on her right calf. She came up limping and finished her shift, but Doc refused to let her go out to play in the overtime.

“Kinda sore, pretty sure it’s just a stinger though.” She answered, pulling herself up to sit and converse with her roommates. Her, Powers and Finning had drawn the short straw of being stuck in the triple room on the trip, though the size of this room for three people wasn’t anything Nicole could complain about. It wasn’t like they were spending much time here anyway, really just for sleeping. They’d checked in yesterday afternoon and then had practice in the evening, a game today, and they’d be taking off first thing in the morning for Halifax.

“Dude, did you see Shae’s face after the game today?” Finning asked, popping a chicken tender into her mouth. “I thought she was gonna kill someone.”

Powers laughed, nodding in agreement.

“Probably because _princess_ didn’t get the game winning goal.” She teased, taking a bite of her own food before waving her fork in her hand, revising her comment. “In all seriousness, her and Sheriff have been catching a lot of shit from the owners.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal with that?” Nicole asked, knowing that all the sports outlets had been beating the team drama to death. For the most part, she tried to stay above it all and to perform her best, but Shae firing back at Bunny and Dolls? Well that was a little harder to ignore. Tensions were definitely high, and a loss tonight was most definitely going to ruffle Bunny’s feathers.

“New owner’s a psycho bitch.”

“Yeah, I got that Vic,” she sent Powers a _duh_ look. “Why is she up our assholes this early in the season?”

“Guess she’s not used to losing, still blows my mind she even bought the team.” Finning shrugged.

“Jesus Shan, what’re you tryin’ to say?” Vic quipped, feigning offense.

“You wanna tell me how many games we won last year?” Finning retorted. Nicole was thoroughly enjoying their banter. “Seventeen,” she turned to Nicole, “We won seventeen games in case you were curious, Haught.” The schedule called for a total of eighty-two games, so Nicole knew that calling that a _tough season_ didn’t even begin to scratch the surface. “So, I’m just sayin’ that I don’t know what kind of _instant success_ that old bag was expecting.”

 _(That old bag_ , if that didn’t sound like Wynonna, Nicole wasn’t sure what did).

“Alright, fair enough.” Vic admitted to Finning’s point. “Gotta think things are looking up though, this has the best the team has clicked in the four years I’ve been here.”

Nicole looked between her two linemates, seeing Finning nod in agreement with the other winger. She was thankful that she had clicked so easily with the two women, it was helpful to know they had been around the block a couple times and could answer any question or help with pretty much any problem she may have had.

They’d been calm and levelheaded during the whole fiasco surrounding Management’s demands, unlike much of the rest of the team, who were letting the pressure get to them. Nicole was still uncertain as to why management had been so seemingly unreasonable with them—they’d only won 17 games last year, surely they couldn’t expect them to go win 82 straight games right off the bat. And, as it stood, they were still 3-2-1 and sitting right around third in the division standings, even with the loss tonight. She supposed that some people would find any reason to complain—and she suspected that Bunny Loblaw was exactly that type of person.

“Yo, you wanna maybe answer that?” Shan nodded at the bed, to Nicole’s phone that had been ringing without her even noticing.

_Incoming Call: Waverly Earp_

Furrowing her brow in confusion as to why Waverly would be calling her at such a late hour, she excused herself from her roommates and took the call in the en suite bathroom.

“Hello, Waves?” She answered, “Is everything okay?”

_“Uh yeah, why?”_

“It’s just late that’s all,” Nicole explained. “Not that I’m not glad to talk to you.”

 _“Well I’d hardly call nine-thirty late, but you did just play a ga—oh my god! Nicole I’m sorry.”_ Waverly gasped and apologized profusely upon her realization. _“I didn’t even realize. I didn’t wake you did I? God, what is it 11:30 there?”_

“12:30, but it’s fine, you didn’t wake me.” Nicole reassured, hearing Waverly sigh on the other end of the line. “What’s up?”

 _“Well, I…”_ Waverly paused, _“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”_

Nicole felt her heart swell at Waverly’s concern, but tempered herself slightly. She knew that Waverly was no longer with Champ, but that didn’t mean that she reciprocated the ever-growing crush she had on the brunette. And besides, Waverly had been voted _Nicest Person in Purgatory_ , and was probably just being friendly.

_“I mean, I saw you block that shot and then I didn’t see you for the rest of the game.”_

“Yeah, I’m good. Doc just made me sit it out. Said it was _imperative to take the necessary precautions_.” She imitated the mustachioed team doctor, earning a snort from the girl on the other end.

 _“God, you and Wynonna with that impression.”_ Nicole could practically _hear_ the roll of Waverly’s eyes. _“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Sorry that you guys lost.”_

“It’s all good. I mean it’s not, it’s a loss, but just gotta move past it now.”

_“I’m not sure Bunny Loblaw would agree.”_

“Seriously, Vic and Shan and I were just talking about her. It is what it is, as long as we play the game we know we can, that’s all we can do. Their crazy demands are only stressing everyone out.”

“ _That’s a mature way of looking at it.”_

“Well, I have been hanging around some good influences.”

 _“Didn’t Finning get suspended three separate times last year?”_ Waverly chuckled.

“Yeah, fair point, but she’s been pretty cool during this whole thing. It’s helped me out a lot.” She smiled, thinking about how much of a mental minefield the season started off as. “Anyway, how’re things back in Purgatory?”

_“Boring. We finished setting up the Halloween decorations and set up a lot of stuff for the Fall Festival you guys are having—I still think it’s crazy you guys have to host that the day after you get back.”_

“No rest for the wicked.” Nicole said, earning herself another little giggle from the other brunette.

_“But other than that, it’s been quiet. Without you guys in town there’s not all that much to do around here, so Wynonna’s been playing more pranks, mostly in Doc’s office—”_

“—Oh god, he’s gonna be in a mood when we get back then.”

 _“Uh huh,”_ Waverly agreed. _“Jeremy’s been hanging around a lot too. Says it’s easier to write about the team when he’s in the rink, but I think it’s just because he’s got a thing for Robin.”_

Nicole pondered the pair, recalling the few times she’d seen them interact.

“They’d be cute together, don’t you think?”

_“Oh my god! They would be, but Jeremy’s too oblivious to see Robin likes him, and Robin won’t make a move until he’s sure Jeremy knows he’s into him.”_

Nicole fell silent for a moment, smiling at the irony that that was pretty much the situation between her and Waverly. (Except, Jeremy and Robin’s crushes were obviously mutual, but the jury was still out on Waverly).

 _“Nicole?”_ Perhaps her silence had lasted a moment too long.

“Hmm? Yeah?”

_“It’s late there, and you’re probably tired, so I’ll let you go.”_

Nicole was reluctant for their conversation to end, but the adrenaline from game day was rapidly draining from her body and she could feel her body ache from the wear and tear of the game mix with exhaustion, and decided it best to turn in for the night.

“Alright, good night Waves,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Thanks for calling, I miss you.”

 _“Good night, Nicole.”_ Waverly said heartwarmingly, leaving Nicole with a soft smile on her face as the call ended.

Nicole exited the bathroom and returned to the main area of the hotel room, finding her two roommates sitting across from each other in silence, fixing her with a knowing look.

“What?” She asked, not liking how much this had felt like an intervention all of a sudden.

“ _Thanks for calling.”_ Powers teased, mocking her voice. “ _I miss you._ ”

“Who were you on the phone with?” Finning probed.

“N-no one.” Nicole silently cursed herself for stuttering, feeling a heat rise in her cheeks.

“Really? Sure sounded like someone to me.” Her linemate continued. “Didn’t it sound like someone to you, Vic?”

“Why you know Shan, it sure did.”

“It was…my mom.” She lied. Terribly.

“Ah ah ah,” Finning chastised. “I figured you’d be a better liar than that. Or at least have enough of a memory to remember when you told us how you cut your parents out of your life the second you could on your 18th birthday.” She _had_ forgotten about that. Finning had invited her and Powers to her place for dinner about a week before the first game _. (“If we’re gonna be lineys, Red, we’re gonna have to have each other’s backs—we gotta trust each other”)._ They’d shared some pretty personal stuff with each other, but now they shared a bond that showed on and off the ice. “Are you sure it wasn’t that Earp girl? The scorekeeper? The one you can’t stop staring at in between shifts?”

“Wha? Pfft…no! Of course not! I don’t even—I’m not even,” she stammered.

“You’re not even what? Gay?” Powers interjected. “Yeah, you are. But that’s totally fine, Red.”

“What’s not okay is you pretending you’re not all stupid, googly eyes, middle school head over heels for the scorekeeper. What’s her name again, _Wendy? Willow?_ ”

“Waverly.” Nicole mumbled.

“What was that?” Finning asked, cupping her ear to hear her better.

“Her name is Waverly.” Nicole gave in, blushing furiously.

The older winger sat down next to Nicole on her bed and put an arm around her shoulder.

“That stupid smile you were wearing when you walked out of the bathroom, Haught, that’s the one you’ve got on your stupid face when you leave practice because you get to go work with the Earps—and we both know it’s not because of Wynonna. That’s the smile smile of someone in _love_. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Nicole sighed heavily, and relaxed slightly.

“Waverly doesn’t—isn’t…she just broke up with her _boyfriend_ , Shan.”

“Okay, _and?_ ”

“I can’t fall for a straight girl.”

“You know there’re these people who can like more than one gender, they don’t exclusively date—"

“—I know how bisexuality works, Vic.” She interrupted her linemate sitting across from her.

“All I’m saying is that _you_ ,” Finning pulled Nicole in tighter with the arm slung over she shoulder, “are in deep with _Waves_ ,” she teased with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows, “and people aren’t always as straight as they seem.”

\---

 **PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

Captain Shae Pressman shines as the Blue Devils bounce back with a dominating 6-3 win over @warriorsCEWHL in Halifax. Blue Devils improve to 4-2-1

_22 Oct—9:55 PM ADT_

\---

 **PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

CAPTAIN CLUTCH! Shae Pressman scores the GWG with 1:27 remaining in the 3rd to secure back-to-back wins for the Devils. Purgatory 1, @islandersCEWHL 0.

_25 Oct—10:25 PM ADT_

\---

 **TSN** **@TSN_Sports**

THE DEVIL’S IN THE DETAILS—Randy Nedley credits attention to the fundamentals as the source of his team’s recent success

_27 Oct—5:15 PM ADT_

\---

 **PURGATORY SPORTS REPORT** **@JeremyC_PG**

Blue Devils weather late Storm surge, Powers’ 2nd period goal stands as the game-winner, and the Devils defeat Charlottetown Storm 3-2

_27 Oct—5:19 PM ADT_

\---

Day nine of the road trip saw everyone just _really_ wanting to go home. Tonight would be their fifth game in eight days, and they were exhausted, some of them more than a little banged up. It took them all a little longer to get out of bed, and even longer to get going. Nicole supposed that’s why Nedley had made morning skate mandatory—to make sure they’d be awake and ready to take on the Cougars tonight.

The Devils were hopeful to add to their win streak, finding their groove on the road after the overtime loss on night one of the trip. If anything, they were hoping they could keep Bunny quiet for another day by appeasing her with a victory. (She’d already announced loudly in the morning meeting that she’d made the trip to New Brunswick to see them play).

Nicole really wanted to be on top of her game, she really did, but she just _couldn’t_ get her head right today, and it had been Waverly’s fault. Well, not directly, but definitely related.

The brunette had been increasingly less communicative with Nicole over the last few days, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she had done something to the girl without realizing. She’d been wracking her brain all week, but couldn’t think of anything. She’d decided against reaching out to the girl—who hadn’t wished her good luck before the game (not that Nicole had been looking forward to it or anything), and hadn’t said anything beyond “Congrats” after they had won their game in Charlottetown two days ago. She knew she should be a professional, separate her personal life from her _job_ , but that was easier said than done.

Almost as if the girl could sense Nicole was thinking about her, Waverly’s contact lit up Nicole’s phone.

“Yo, Haught, we’re gonna go watch some game film, come join us.” Finning had called out to her in the hallway after they’d changed from morning skate.

“Uh, yeah, just give me a sec. I’ll catch up with you guys.” She told her teammate quickly before finding a secluded area of the unfamiliar arena to answer the call.

“Hello?”

 _“Hi.”_ Nicole could tell something was off about her.

“What’s up Waves?”

 _“What, I can’t call you to wish you luck before the game?”_ The younger girl snapped, and Nicole was a little taken aback.

“Woah, woah, what’s going on Waverly?”

 _“Nothing.”_ Nicole could see the stubborn little pout on her face and Waverly crossing her arms as she spoke.

“Waves, seriously, you can talk to me ya know.”

She heard the girl draw in a heavy breath before speaking again.

“ _Do you ever feel like the world is spinning too fast? Like everything is changing before you have time to process it?”_

“Are you kidding?” Nicole suppressed a chuckle. “Waves, six months ago I was a college student finishing my application to the police academy, and now I’m a professional hockey player flying all over the country.”

She’d meant it to be light and helpful in cheering Waverly up, but it seemed to only stress her out even more.

_“Right, so you understand that everything is changing too quickly. Like everyone’s got all these expectations of you and you have no clue what you’re doing and you’re not sure if you should be even doing it at all. It’s all moving too fast, everything needs to slow down—GOD! I just wish everyone would slow down for like even just a second.”_

Nicole felt a sucker punch to the gut. Somehow she had pinpointed everything she had been feeling since she got to Purgatory; everything she thought she’d moved past as she grew more comfortable with the team—the self-doubt, the outside noise, Bunny freakin’ Loblaw’s insane demands, Dolls’ cold stare etched in the back of her mind watching everything she and the team did.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” She said, though she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Waverly or herself. There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “You can tell me what’s going on, something’s clearly bothering you. Is that why you’ve been quiet all week? I’ve kinda missed your texts.”

She’d been trying to make Waverly feel better (even if Nicole could feel the bad butterflies creeping up out of her stomach and all the way up into her lungs, threatening to strangle her right before the big game), so Waverly’s reaction came as shock to her.

 _“Wow, clingy much?”_ She snapped. _“I’ve got a life outside of being a groupie for you, you know.”_

Wow. Okay. That was…something.

“Sorry I’ve been really homesick and wanted a sense of normalcy.” Nicole could feel her anger get the best of her the way it usually did when her anxiety was at a higher than normal level.

 _“Well, I’m sorry I’ve got my own shit going on and can’t be at your beck and call_.”

She knew better than to get into a screaming match on the phone in the hallway while she was supposed to be conducting team business. She could hear Dolls’ voice in the back of her mind reminding her that he’d _appreciate it if she lived up to the professional part of her job title._ That, and she could tell that whatever was bothering Waverly was something she clearly didn’t want to talk about directly, so she let it go, though she was still a little more than upset at their interaction.

“Right…” she let the silence sit for just a moment. “Well, I’m here for you if you need it.”

Nicole could feel Waverly drop her attitude slightly.

 _“I just screamed at you, how’re you so nice to me?”_ She asked softly.

In a moment of her heart speaking before her mind could censor her, she opened her mouth and couldn’t stop the words that had tumbled out.

“Well, I just think you’ve been dating too many shit heads.”

And just like that, Waverly’s wall went back up and her iron mask came back on.

_“We’re not dating.”_

Nicole knew that, and she’d regretted her phrasing the second she’d said the words; cursed herself for not thinking before she spoke.

“I know.” She sighed into the receiver. “God, Waves, I’d never ask you to be someone you’re not,” she added, remembering what the brunette had said earlier in their conversation.

_“Good. Just don’t ask me to be anyone at all.”_

At this point everything inside of Nicole that had started to bubble back up had now started to boil over uncontrollably. Waverly had (unintentionally) touched on a sore subject for Nicole, and (also unintentionally) reminded her that she never had a shot with the girl.

She grit her teeth to stop herself from saying something she knew she’d regret.

“Fine.”

_“Fine.”_

Nicole opened her mouth to speak, but than closed it again, thinking better of it. There was another beat of tense silence.

_“Well, maybe just friends.”_

“Sure, whatever you want Waverly.” She said, rolling her eyes, done with the conversation. She wasn’t sure her heart or her head could take any more. “I gotta go, bye.”

She’d hung up before Waverly could respond.

Nicole tried to take a breath to steady herself, right her mind, but this wasn’t that simple. There was too much tension from her personal life, and too much pressure in her professional one.

She found the room where Powers and Finning were setting up the film and joined them, offering a tight smile as she entered the room. Her linemates eyed her with concern, but didn’t say anything.

\---

 **CEWHL** **@CEWHL**

7 different Cougars score as Moncton wallops Purgatory 7-1 on Tuesday night in New Brunswick

_29 Oct—10:15 PM ADT_

\---

 **TSN** **@TSN_Sports**

“Abysmal. An embarrassment. My grandmother could’ve played better and she’s been dead for thirty years.”—@bluedevilsCEWHL owner Bunny Loblaw following her club’s 7-1 loss to @cougarsCEWHL

_30 Oct—9:30 AM EDT_

\---

 ** Yahoo! Sports:  ** **ICYMI—Drama On and Off the Ice:**

The biggest storyline of the first month of the CEWHL season has not had anything to do with goals or outstanding goaltender performances, but rather the outspoken owner of the Purgatory Blue Devils. Bunny Loblaw has caught the attention of her team, and the entire league with her strong words and her refusal to hold back on expressing her expectations. She’s been very clear that she demands success and victories galore and she demands it immediately, judging by the amount of noise she’s made just a month into the new year. The head-scratching part of it all? Her club is currently sitting in second place of the league’s BC/Alberta Division and tied for third in the entire Western Conference. For a group that finished with a historically low number of points last season, their 6-3-1 October record is a monumental achievement, though clearly not good enough for the higher ups.

With the team’s head coach and captain speaking out against the strong demands, it is clear that there are more than a few ruffled feathers. If tensions continue, what will the future hold for the Devils? As it stands, management has created a culture in which a loss equals being told off in front of the entire league, a culture of fear. Will they live up to the extremely high expectations, or will the fear of defeat only make things worse for the team?

_Wednesday, October 30 th_

_\---_

Nicole hardly had the energy or the motivation to get out of bed on Wednesday, the day they’d returned from the road trip. She’d called it jet lag when Wynonna texted her, asking if she’d be by the rink at all, but she knew it was more than that.

For one, it was her first day sleeping in her own bed in over a week and a half and she’d wanted to take advantage of that. (And Calamity Jane had _not_ been pleased she had to stay with Nicole’s landlord for ten days, so she was afraid of what destruction may lie ahead if she left the cat alone in the apartment for any amount of time).

For another, her body was tired and sore in ways she’d never thought possible—she still hadn’t mastered the art of _not_ getting hit in open ice, and the aching and bruises were evidence of that. Finning and Powers teased her endlessly about how she’d have to lose her “training room virginity” and make friends with the ice bath if she was going to survive the season.

And thirdly, she really was just mentally destroyed. No matter how many good shifts she had, goals scored or assists made over the road trip, she felt like there was always something lacking to her game. In the past, she’d used that feeling as fuel to keep improving her game, but this was unchartered territory for her. She’d known she was more than partly responsible for the poor performance of the team last game—she’d been unable to connect a pass to save her life and she may as well have been carrying a piano on her back with how sluggish her skating had been. She was honestly surprised Nedley hadn’t benched her entirely. Mental toughness and confidence were something that Nicole had prided herself on, so Bunny’s comments prior to and following the game should’ve been water off a duck’s back, but she couldn’t shake them. That being said, she knew that the real problem lied in her confrontation with Waverly.

Nicole knew better than to let feelings get in the way of her performance, but Waverly Earp had had a power over her since the day Nicole had met her. Fighting with Waverly had been the spark that ignited the trash can fire that was her game in Moncton. But it was more than that, because it had bled into her psyche outside being a professional athlete. She’d needed to sort herself out and find a way to be _friends_ with Waverly without thinking about her eyes and how they lit up when she was excited about something, or how soft her lips most definitely were, or how a million choirs of angels couldn’t hold a candle to the sound of her laughter. Because the truth was final, and it was that she was not, nor would she ever be dating Waverly Earp. The second she got that through her hard head, Nicole thought, the sooner she could return to performing at an acceptable level.

So, while she’d told Wynonna it was jet lag, it was _so_ much more than that.

\---

Halloween. Fall Festival. It all should’ve been so much fun. And virtually everyone else had been enjoying themselves.

The Fall Festival was the team’s first big community engagement event, and the turnout had been amazing. They’d been outside, in a sectioned off area of the arena parking lot, decorated for the fall feeling. All of the children ran around in their Halloween costumes, playing games, decorating pumpkins, interacting with the team. Nicole had been stationed with her linemates at the makeshift maze made out of hay bales.

She’d done her best to stay cheerful and match the excitement of the children as they entered the maze, but quickly found herself exhausted by pretending she was thrilled to be there. Under normal circumstances, this would’ve been _right_ up Nicole’s alley—and she probably would’ve found a fun costume to wear to the function, but the last few days had worn her down to the point that all she could do was put on a fake smile and spend thirty seconds at a time over-exaggerating her enthusiasm for the sake of the children.

Instead, as it was, she was sitting, distractedly staring across at the face painting booth, waiting for the sun to set so that the children would leave to go trick-or-treating throughout town.

She’d felt someone nudge her shoulder roughly, drawing out of her trance.

“ _Helloooo,”_ Finning snapped her fingers in front of Nicole’s face. “Earth to Haught.”

She hummed her response.

“Jesus Red, you’ve been spacy all day.” Powers quipped. “You sure you don’t have a concussion? You’re not exactly great at not getting hit.”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired…jet lag.” She defended, using that damn excuse again.

“ _Jet lag_.” Shan repeated, a knowing skepticism in her tone. “God, you are _such_ a bad liar.”

Their conversation was momentarily put on hold as a family came by the maze with a little girl wearing a full Devils get-up, and asked for a photo with the three of them. The girl, who looked to be about five or six, tugged on Nicole’s jersey. Nicole lowered herself down to the girl’s eye level.

“Do you like my costume?” She’d asked excitedly.

The girl was clearly dressed up as one of the Devils, but in paying full attention, she’d seen that the girl was wearing a number fifteen sweater.

“I do!” She’d chimed, for the first time all day not faking her excitement.

“I’m you!” The girl all but shrieked with glee, giggling her little kindergarten giggle. “When I get big, I’m gonna play for the Blue Devils too!”

“Well, I’m sure you’re going to be a superstar and score all the goals in the world.” Nicole told the girl. “Why don’t you tell me your name, huh?”

“My name’s Nicole, just like you! You’re my _favorite_ player.”

The thought had never crossed her mind that she, Nicole Haught, could be anyone’s favorite player. A year ago, if you would’ve told Nicole she’d be in Purgatory with the girl in front of her who was wearing her jersey, over the moon at meeting _her_ , well Nicole would have just laughed in your face.

“Well I guess it’s something in the name then.” She beamed brightly at her younger counterpart. “But I bet you’re already better than me.”

The little Nicole giggled and nodded her head proudly, and the interaction showed Nicole just how impactful she could be. She’d never given the thought of being someone that kids wanted to be when they grew up any weight, but she now realized that she was bigger than just herself or the team.

The girl’s parents thanked them for the photo, and Nicole specifically for making their daughter’s day, before entering the maze.

Finning and Powers teased her harmlessly about how that girl could probably take her spot on the team, but were really truly, happy for Nicole. The excitement of the encounter left her smiling for a few moments, but it seemed staring off in the distance at that damn face painting booth was inevitable.

“Could you _please,_ for the love of God, stop pouting?” Powers grabbed her attention. When Nicole sent her teammate a confused look, Vic elaborated. “You’ve been staring over there at her all damn day with your sad, wounded puppy face. It’s depressing.”

It had felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke on her, putting the booth across from her, because _of course_ Waverly had to be the face paint artist at the festival. She’ll admit, begrudgingly, that she had been staring off at the younger Earp, distracted and a little self-indulgent of her own melancholy. However, she’d gotten so caught up in the distraction that she failed to notice Waverly’s absence, the booth now being run by her teammates Jamie and Angelique instead.

“She went inside,” Shan told her, reading Nicole’s mind. “Looked like she was headed off to do something for Sheriff. Go talk to her, you’re obviously a mess, and it’s obviously about her.”

Nicole was going to fight, say that she was fine again, but she knew neither of them would believe her, so she settled on appreciating her friends.

“Thanks, you guys.” She said vaguely, but she knew the women knew she was grateful for them being a steadying force yet again.

“We just want you to get your head screwed back on straight again so we don’t have to hear Bunny shit talk us after a bad loss again.”

“It’s entirely selfish.” Vic added to Shan’s comment, as Nicole rolled her eyes and all but jogged away to find Waverly.

She walked back into the arena, searching for the girl, walking down the long corridor and past coach’s empty office, stopping just outside the room they put all of their miscellaneous storage items. The door to the room had been open and the light was on. She could hear the sounds of someone moving things around inside.

“Waves?” Nicole called. The person inside the room stopped, and moments later, Waverly emerged, holding a box addressed to Randy Nedley. She acknowledged Nicole’s presence with a nod, but had a weird look in her eye as she switched the light off in the storage room and made her way into Nedley’s office, Nicole trailing her curiously. “Waverly, can we talk?” The younger girl ignored the request, but pushed Nicole out of the way of the office door, closing it and locking them in the room. “What’re you do—”

Nicole never got to finish the question because Waverly had seized her by the shoulders and short-circuited her brain by crashing their lips together and quickly moved them away from the door and onto the couch in her coach’s office.

Her brain was caught somewhere between the thoughts _Waverly Earp is kissing me (!!!)_ and _Is it possible for lips to feel so perfect (?!?!)_ and _Well this is certainly not something friends do_.

It was that final thought that caused her to pull away from the girl.

“What happened to friends?” She asked, still trying to catch her breath from the ambush.

Waverly sat up straight, looking straight at Nicole, a turmoil behind her eyes.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about for the last two weeks?” She asked. Nicole shook her head in response. “I’ve been thinking about how _upside down_ my life has been. But you know what?”

“What?”

“It’s been upside down for more than just the last two weeks. It’s not new, so what’s the difference? Why now do I feel so lost, so topsy-turvy?”

Nicole just fixed her with a confused look, her mind still reeling from the kiss.

“Something in my life was temporarily removed two weeks ago, and I was lost without it, but the thing is, I didn’t even know that thing was so important.”

“What is it Waves? Is that why you were so off? I can help you find it—or replace it. Is that why we fought?” Nicole rattled off questions. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

“No…well, yeah, but it’s not a _thing_ per se.”

“What is it then?”

“You know, all week everybody was telling me I was pouting. Gus said I’d been miserable ever since the team left, Wynonna teased me about calling to make sure you were okay after the game, but Champ made a comment about us being so close and it…scared the shit out of me, because, well…you kinda scare the shit out of me.”

“I scare you?” Nicole’s face softened.

“Yes.” Waverly sighed. “If you never started working here, I’d’ve been fine with the team being gone for so long, but you were gone for almost two weeks and I was miserable, and I had time to think about when we’d interact and I realized some things…some _feelings_ that I’d definitely never thought could exist.”

Nicole could hardly believe what she was hearing, her heart soared, feeling lighter than it had in days, knowing that Waverly (might have) had a crush on her back.

“Are you saying—”

“—Yes.” Waverly didn’t let her finish. “I wanna apologize to you…that fight, you didn’t deserve that. I was scared, scared of how you made me feel, even when you weren’t here. I didn’t want to believe what all the signs were showing me. Because, when I slowed myself down enough to see them, they all lit up neon and pointed straight to you, and your smile, and your laugh, and your charm, and-and…” As Waverly spoke, the smile on Nicole’s face grew larger, and she felt the collective ache of her head and her heart from the last couple of days dissipate, leaving her happier than she had been in a long time. “I really don’t know what I’m doing Nicole, maybe I should stop talking.”

“You’re getting better already.” She smirked, and she saw a switch flip behind Waverly’s eyes, almost like she remembered their current position, her on top of Nicole on the couch in Nedley’s office.

“Maybe you should stop talking, too.” The brunette said, her unsure voice beginning to take on certainty.

Well this, Nicole knew how to handle. All she had to do was nudge Waverly in the right direction.

“Why don’t you make me?”

And so Waverly did. (Suddenly, Nicole wasn’t jet-lagged anymore).


	9. Lights Out (A Storm's A-Comin')

Wynonna groaned, looking down at her checklist to see the final two tasks she had to get done before they could lock up the rink for the night. The team’s hectic “a game every other day” schedule meant that most days, she’d been cleaning up the aftermath of the rowdy fans from the night before on top of her other responsibilities. Time had become an enigma where her workdays seemed to drag on, yet she found herself amazed at how quickly October flipped over to November, and how November seemed to be melting away even faster.

The weather had changed accordingly, of course, most days looming with the threat of snow and cold, biting winds. There was a particularly large storm expected to roll in overnight, and Wynonna just _really_ wanted to get home before it started.

She entered the laundry room, flipping the Devils’ game jerseys over from the washing machine to the dryer, setting a timer on her phone to take them out after they finished. As she exited the room, Wynonna heard someone’s voice coming from the training room.

_“Well, I do apologize, but there is quite simply nothing I can do…”_

She knew that there was only one person around here who spoke like he was a hundred and fifty years old, so she knew it had been Doc, but she was surprised that he was here at all considering the Devils had the day off and anyone who had come in for treatment would’ve been gone for hours by now.

“ _You know as well as I do, Mr. Dolls, that when a player sustains an injury, one must take the necessary precautions so as to not exacerbate the problem…I do not care what that old windbag—I say with the utmost respect—says, I cannot permit Miss Boardman out onto the ice in her current condition just because she is playing well…I am happy to speak to Ms. Loblaw herself, but it will have to be here in my office…yes, good day Mr. Dolls, do stay safe from this snow now.”_

Wynonna chuckled to herself as she ended her eavesdropping, knowing that not even Doc Holliday could be immune to the bitching of Bunny Loblaw. She’d seen Jenna take a hit and come up woozy in the game before last, and knew that Doc had benched the rookie due to her concussion. But she also knew that losing a first line winger was not in Bunny’s “win or else” plan, and Doc was caught in the crosshairs.

The team store was her next destination, though she dreaded the task of taking inventory of the team merchandise—that was more Waverly’s area of expertise. She heard her sister’s laughter, growing louder as she approached the store and knew that Waverly wasn’t alone.

“Oh my god! Nicole!” she heard Waverly say through a giggle.

As she entered the room, Wynonna saw them snap away from each other and stand awkwardly, trying to look normal, guilty eyes giving the two away. _Hmm. Weird._

“What’re you guys doing in here?” She asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“Well, uh—” Nicole started, lost for words, and the two spluttered. “Yes.” Waverly added as though Nicole had explained their way out of the situation.

“Right, okay. Well, I’m supposed to do inventory so if you guys could get out, that’d be great.”

“Or…” Waverly looked at Nicole before proposing, “we could do it for you.”

“Sounds good to me.” If Waverly were waiting for her to refuse the offer, she clearly didn’t know her sister very well. She turned to the door, ready to walk out, when her suspicion got the better of her. “Wait a minute,” she spun on her heel, “Why were you so quick to offer that?”

“Maybe so it’ll actually get done right.” Nicole deadpanned, finding her words rather quickly this time.

“ _Maybe so it’ll get done right.”_ She mocked, like a child, sticking her tongue out at the redhead (also like a child).

“What I’m sure Nicole _meant_ to say was that we’d love to take this off your hands, because we know you hate paperwork and numbers.” Waverly corrected.

“Mhm, well you’re not wrong.” She nodded, still skeptical. “There’s something going on here…I’m watching you.”

Wynonna left the store, now having forty-five minutes to herself before she had to take the jerseys out of the dryer and she could go home.

\---

She ended up falling asleep in the office, being rudely and suddenly awoken by her phone. She figured it was the alarm she had set, and reached over to hit the snooze button. Five more minutes wouldn’t kill anyone. She was a little more than irritated when the god-awful blaring didn’t stop.

Picking up the device, she analyzed the source of the alarm.

**WEATHER ALERT—SEVER SNOW STORM WARNING ISSUED FOR GHOST RIVER COUNTY; TURN TO LOCAL RADIO CHANNELS FOR IMPORTANT DETAILS**

Without hesitation, she flipped on the small radio they’d kept in the office, tuning it to the proper station. They weren’t any strangers to big snow storms, but hardly any of them warranted a phone blast, so she knew this one was going to be a doozy.

_“…snow squalls expected, as well as sudden whiteouts and icy roads. A high wind advisory is also in place, with power outages likely. Roads will be closed until the storm threat clears…”_

She turned off the radio and huffed, knowing she’d be stuck here for the time being. It had been snowing for most of the day, but nothing really major, so Wynonna knew that things had turned quickly while she was asleep.

Her phone started to screech again, but only to remind her of the jerseys in the laundry room. Deciding that she could relax and hunker down in the office once all her responsibilities were taken care of, she made her way down there to unload the dryers and hang the uniforms on the jersey rack. Before she could even make it there, the unmistakable flickering of the lights and the whirring of the heating system slowing down gave way and the power cut out completely.

“Stupid fucking Canada and its stupid fucking snow,” she grumbled, cursing her luck. She turned on the flashlight on her phone and twisted the doorknob, gaining entry to the laundry room. If she was gonna be here for a while, she could at least pull the uniforms out so they wouldn’t get wrinkled before the game. She knew Bunny had hated her for being “local riff-raff” and she was not about to add an _untidy, unkempt looking team_ to the list of reasons for the old hag’s vendetta against her.

As she worked, she was more than aware of the eerie silence that the arena carried, the only sounds coming from the refrigeration system that kept the ice surface frozen—which ran on its own specific generator. The rink like this was a little bit more than creepy, and there was no way that this place wasn’t just _a little_ bit haunted. Any place named after a gunslinger like her great-great grandaddy was sure to carry no small quantity of bad juju.

The halls were silent still as she exited the room, looking around at the shadows of the usually brightly lit rink, seeing only dim shadows cast by her phone’s flashlight. She noted that she hadn’t heard a peep from her sister or Nicole, briefly wondering if they had made it out before the roads were closed, though she doubted that, knowing Waverly and Little Miss Tight Ass would take their sweet time to make sure inventory was done thoroughly. As she entered the lobby, she could see outside through the glass doors and judging by the snow being whipped around by the wind, she knew it’d probably be more than a little while until the power came on.

Wynonna was glad to have a bottle tucked away in her cupboard, smirking to herself as she remembered the way Waverly stared her down disapprovingly when she brought it from the homestead. ( _“Why would you ever need that at work?”_ Waverly asked, to which Wynonna had replied: “For emergencies obviously”).

_“Mercy me.”_ Wynonna all but jumped a foot in the air and dropped her phone when she entered the office to find that it wasn’t empty. _“What a fine bottle of whiskey we have here.”_

“What the hell are you doing in here?” She snarled, trying to recompose herself. The absolute last thing she’d expected to see here, now, was John Henry Holliday and his stupid hat sitting at her desk, cradling the bottle she’d been looking forward to.

“Well I reckon that I’m sitting in this here chair, admiring these libations.”

“Yeah, I see that.” She huffed. “I mean why are you here in my office in the middle of a snowstorm?”

“It would only seem fair that I invade your space for a change, wouldn’t it?”

He had her there, she supposed. She’d been more than a little juvenile with her pranks in the training room, but he made it _so easy_ and it was fun to mess with the guy.

“Fine. Sorry, I guess. Can I have my whiskey and my seat please?”

Doc pondered this, staring her down mysteriously, looking between Wynonna and the bottle. He ran a hand over his mustache before speaking.

“You may have your seat,” he vacated the chair, “and your whiskey,” held out the bottle for Wynonna only to snatch it back when she reached for it, shaking it tauntingly in his hands, “ _if_ you allow me to join you.”

“Now why would I do that?”

“A few reasons, if you must know.” He started. “For starters, it seems quite a shame for such a quality beverage to be enjoyed all by your lonesome. Second, when one partakes in libations, it is customary to share with the guests. And most importantly, I do believe you owe me one…think of it as an apology for the acts of vandalism you’ve committed at the expense of my office space.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his “reasons”. She wasn’t sure who he thought he was, breaking into her office and wanting to drink her whiskey. She chose to overlook the fact that she had essentially done the same thing, though she never broke into his bottle.

“Dude, I already said I was sorry for that.”

“Alright, Miss Earp,” he said, turning to exit the room. “I just figured you could use the company while you drank, that’s all. But I suppose I’ll leave you be then.”

She watched as the doctor tipped her the brim of his hat and took a step out the door. Something about him intrigued Wynonna—always had. Something so mysterious about the man, something she couldn’t put a finger on. Whatever it was, she couldn’t help but be drawn to him.

Torn between enjoying her whiskey in peace and the man who was leaving her be, she spoke.

“Wait, Doc.”

Doc paused, barely two steps out the door. Wynonna would bet her life that he was wearing the smuggest fucking smirk on his face that she’d ever see.

“Yes?” He drawled, and now Wynonna could _hear_ the smirk in his voice.

“We’re gonna be stuck here a while,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “I guess it wouldn’t be so awful for you to join me in a drink.”

“Why of course Miss Earp, I’d love to.”

Doc re-entered the room and dragged over a second chair from across the office, bringing it up near Wynonna. He took the bottle from Wynonna, who produced two glasses from the cupboard, and poured for the both of them.

“So, any reason you’re here, after hours with no players to treat?” She decided to make conversation.

“Contrary to popular belief, my job is more than just treating the players on this squad, Miss Earp.” Doc explained.

“Alright, if we’re gonna do this you gotta stop calling me that.” She interjected. “Just call me Wynonna like a normal person.”

“As you wish, _Wynonna_.” He said, emphasizing her name, in a way that was more enticing to her than it should’ve been.

“So then what is it you do?”

“Diagnosing injuries, treatment plans, mostly, an _obscene_ amount of paperwork and conversatin’ with that nasty old woman’s mouthpiece, Mr. Xavier Dolls. I swear, of all the women I have encountered, crotchety old Bunny Loblaw has got to be the worst by far.”

“Yep,” Wynonna agreed, smirking into her whiskey glass. “There’s a few choice words I like to call her, but we can stick with crotchety for now.”

For the most part, she enjoyed her conversation with the man. She’d felt slightly more than silly when she discovered that _Charlene_ hadn’t been a wife or a girlfriend, but rather the doctor’s prized possession—his vintage Camaro. Regardless, there was no denying the odd tension that built in the air as it progressed. The way he could hold her gaze with his hard stare and his piercing blue eyes made her mouth go dry more than once, and she turned to her glass for liquid courage and to just physically be able to continue speaking.

“Well, I do say, it is a doozy of a snowstorm out there. Mighty cold I reckon, startin’ to feel a bit brisk in here, too.” He said, staring directly at Wynonna, almost like he was about to imply something.

Without a moment’s hesitation, her mouth said everything her subconscious had been telling her for the last two and a half months. What she had dismissed as curiosity or nosiness, or being drawn to a puzzle of a man. If there was an implication of the nefarious variety that was going to be made, damn it all to hell if Wynonna Earp was going to let John Henry Holliday beat her to it.

“Well maybe we should do something to warm up then.” She gave him a more than seductive look. (One of her best, really, if you asked her).

Doc laughed dryly.

“What kind of man do you take me for, Miss Earp?” He said, fixing her with a hard stare. She supposed he called her that to get to her, if his face had been any indication. “Because I am a man of honor, and I never bed a woman without taking her on a proper date first.”

“No offense there Henry, but you seem like _exactly that_ type.” Now Wynonna was the one laughing.

“Perhaps I am,” He said as he swirled his whiskey, “though you are hardly the floozy I would participate in such activities with.”

“You’d be surprised,” she snorted, knowing that her time in Europe heavily contradicted Doc’s words.

There was a silence, a pregnant pause, heavy with tension. She’d always considered herself brazen and strong-willed, and she _always_ did what she wanted, so why the hell wouldn’t she make the first move here?

That would be because Doc had moved in close and captured her in a kiss. It was desperate and heated, all teeth and tongues and roaming hands. She’d willingly allowed access when his tongue probed her lips. This was what she didn’t even know she needed, and her movements mirrored it—the desperation, the passion.

She was about to push it forward, take the next step, when Doc broke their kiss, and their embrace altogether.

“My my,” he simply smirked at her, wiping the corner of his lip with his thumb. She stared back at him, heaving, pupils blown and hair more than definitely a mess. “Well, I’ll be leavin’ you be now, Miss Earp— _Wynonna_.” He tipped her the brim of his hat yet again, and left the office, leaving Wynonna to process the fact that _that_ just happened.

\---

When she had finally recovered, Wynonna became aware that she hadn’t heard from the other two girls that were in the arena before she had fallen asleep. She unlocked her phone and opened an app to see where Waverly was, only to find that her phone was still somewhere in the building. And wherever Waverly was, Nicole was bound to be. Those two had been inseparable as of late.

She exited the office, moving to the last place she had seen the girls.

“Waverly?” She called as she shined her light into the team store. “Nicole?”

There was no response, and the store and back room were empty, so she moved onto the concession stand and refrigerator. (She’d hoped that the power would come on soon—the residual cold air would hold for now, but too much longer and the foods would start to turn). She was met with the same result as in the team store and had to move on to the next location.

She tried the laundry room, the training room, all the offices in that wing of the arena, and even where the ice surface itself had been, but had come up empty each time.

The last place she had to check was the home locker room, and as she approached the door, she heard the sounds of some TV theme playing softly from inside. She’d heard the last lines of “ _Thank You For Being a Friend”_ and knew that at the very least, Nicole had been in there.

She knocked lightly on the door, having war flashbacks of the last time she had walked into the locker room with the redhead there. There was no response, so Wynonna pushed her way in.

Her flashlight illuminated part of the room, though she did notice the blue light of a phone screen coming from the back section of the room, separate from the lockers and stalls. Wynonna followed the source to the lounge area of the locker room, the light growing brighter as she stopped in front of the small couch the team had put in there.

“Haught shot? Waves?” She called, but again was met with no answer, and rounded the couch to see… _well this was something, now wasn’t it?_

She’d seen Nicole’s phone connected to a portable charger, playing an episode of _The Golden Girls_ , but that wasn’t anything of note. The real kicker was that, lying on the couch, burrowed deep under a navy and white Blue Devils’ blanket that was most definitely swiped from the team store, Wynonna found her sister asleep, enveloped by the arms of one Nicole Haught.

She knew she’d been right to be suspicious of the pair. She didn’t know what she had suspected, but it wasn’t exactly _this_.

Wynonna now found herself at a crossroads. On the one hand, she desperately wanted to tease the two—Waverly mainly for not telling her, and she wanted to go all _bad cop_ on Nicole and intimidate her a little bit about her relationship with her sister. On the other hand, Waverly had looked more content and more at peace than Wynonna had seen her in a long time, and Nicole seemed to be a part of that. She decided that the latter was more important, and so she didn’t move to wake them, no matter how much fun it would be to watch Nicole’s face turn as red as her hair and then as white as a ghost.

As if the universe had finally joined her side for once, the lights flickered on and illuminated the room, causing the two girls to stir, Nicole opening her eyes first.

“Hmmm,” Nicole hummed as she stretched carefully so as not to wake Waverly. It seemed that in that moment, she recognized Wynonna’s presence and she jumped out of her skin. “Jesus! Wynonna, what’re y—how long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.” she answered, and watched Nicole realize the position she was in in real time, seeing her face change from its normal complexion to bright red to white, just like Wynonna had hoped. (She was a little disappointed that she hadn’t even gotten the chance to interrogate the hockey player).

“It’s not what it looks like.” Nicole defended weakly, and looked over at Waverly who had also awoken.

“What’s not what it l— _oh, hey Wynonna._ ” Waverly started, and then trailed off nervously as Wynonna fixed her with a stern stare.

“Hey, babygirl, care to explain?”

She watched her sister squirm for a moment before she seemed to find the words she was looking for.

“Nicole and I are maybe, kinda dating?”

“Dating? As in more than gal pals… _girlfriend_ girlfriends?” She shifted her gaze from Waverly to Nicole, who looked back at Wynonna nodding, confirming her question. “Mhm, how long?”

“Officially, two and a half weeks.” Waverly answered. “Unofficially, since Halloween.”

“A _month_?” She asked, only partly faking exasperation and betrayal that this had been hidden from her for the past few weeks. “A month, and you didn’t think to tell me? And _you,_ ” She turned to Nicole, “you hid this right under my nose, huh? That is _so_ not bro code.”

“Sorry, I didn’t find it appropriate to drop the bomb on you that I was dating your sister until she felt comfortable to tell you.” Nicole shot back.

Wynonna sent her sister a look, and watched her sister shrink in on herself ever so slightly.

“I wanted to tell you,” she said sheepishly, “but I was worried you’d be upset or wouldn’t approve.”

At Waverly’s words, she softened.

“God, babygirl, you clearly don’t know me all that well. I don’t care if you’re gay or bi or whatever, if anything I’m glad you finally upgraded from _Chump_ Hardy.” She looked up to see Nicole trying to hide a smile. “Waves, you love who you love. Who the fuck cares if it’s a girl as long as she makes you happy and doesn’t hold you back?”

Waverly got up to hug her sister, squeezing her tightly and mumbling a “thank you” into her shoulder. When they broke the embrace, Wynonna approached Nicole, who had also gotten up from the couch.

“That being said,” she started, putting on her bad cop, big sister persona. “If you ever fuck around and break my baby sister’s heart, I swear to god I will shove my foot so far up you—”

“—Okay, back down Wynonna, I think she gets the message.” Waverly stepped in. “Don’t go and scare her off.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than your sister to scare me off, Waves.” Nicole said, giving Waverly the biggest _heart eyes_ Wynonna had ever seen. (It only made her want to vomit a little bit).

“ _Gross._ ” Wynonna said with fake disgust, “also, it better.”


	10. It's A Homecoming

Waverly hummed along to the music playing in the truck as Wynonna drove, pulling out her phone when she felt it vibrate in her pocket.

**Purgatory Blue Devils** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

Blue Devils GAME DAY!!

We look to stretch the win streak to 5 as we finish out the road trip with a stop in Edmonton.

Tune in TONIGHT @ 7PM as we take on @drillersCEWHL

_8 December—3:30 PM MST_

It was Nicole’s first game back in her hometown, and Waverly had all but begged Wynonna to drive them up to see it. They hadn’t had the opportunity to get out to any of the Devils’ road games (mainly because they’d been all the way across the country), but Gus had gotten them coverage at the rink, and Waverly suspected that Wynonna agreed just because it meant she got a day off from work.

Noticing the time, she knew her window to talk to her girlfriend before the game was closing, and she dialed the number. It rang only once before Nicole answered.

“ _Heyyy cutie!”_

“Hi Sweetie Pie,” Waverly smiled as her heart soared at the cheer in Nicole’s voice. She heard Wynonna gag from the driver’s seat. “I just wanted to talk to you before the game.”

_“I may or may not have been waiting on your call.”_

“What’s it like being back in Edmonton? Get to go to any of your old stomping grounds?”

_“Ya know, honestly, we’ve stuck around the hotel for the most part. A couple of the girls and I went out to one of the diners near where I grew up, but other than that it’s been like any other stop on a road trip. Maybe if I had a little more family ties here I’d feel a bit more nostalgic.”_

Waverly listened to Nicole explain, and couldn’t help but feel a little sad for her as she nonchalantly mentioned her family once again. Going back to your hometown was supposed to be special and exciting, but Nicole sounded less than enthused.

Since they’d met, Waverly had been sure to include Nicole in as much as she could, inviting her over for dinner quite often. Waverly in her own way knew what family struggles were like, but couldn’t imagine losing the only people she’d ever had in her corner. She’d had Gus (and Curtis, up until his passing) and Wynonna to call family, and from the very start she had tried to give the redhead some sense of family.

“Well that sounds like fun.”

_“Mhm.”_ The redhead hummed through the phone. _“Are you guys on the road?”_

“Yeah, we’re about forty five minutes out.”

_“Tell me you’re not driving while talking to me on the phone.”_ Nicole said sternly.

“No, no,” she assured. “Wynonna’s driving.”

_“I’m not exactly sure that’s safer.”_

At mention of her name Wynonna snapped her head over, swerving the truck nearly into the next lane as she did so, the car behind them laying on their horn. Wynonna stuck her hand out the window to flip the driver off.

“Put it on speaker,” she heard her sister say, and did as she was told, “Yo Red!”

_“Hi Wynonna.”_

“Your biggest fans are on the way. We made big ol’ embarrassing signs, I brought a cow bell and I’m ready to start a brawl in the stands if need be.”

_“Wynonna, no. Please for the love of everything good do NOT do that.”_

“Say goodbye Wynonna,” Waverly said, taking her phone off speaker. “Just me now.” She assured her girlfriend.

_“Please tell me she’s joking about all of that.”_

“No signs, and I’ll restrain her myself if she even _thinks_ about starting a fight,” Waverly explained. “ _But,_ we did compromise and she does have a cow bell.”

_“Why would you trust her with that?”_

“She wanted to bring an air horn.”

(Waverly debated telling her about the full face of light blue and white paint that Wynonna had spent all morning on, but she’d rather save that surprise embarrassment for when the girl saw them at the game).

_“Suddenly I’m okay with the bell.”_ Nicole said through an amused chortle. “ _Nothing official, but Sheriff’s been hinting at starting our line tonight.”_

“Well that’s exciting!” Waverly beamed, prideful. “You know how proud it makes me when I hear my baby’s name announced in the arena.”

This comment earned another gag and a vomiting gesture from her sister beside her.

_“You know it’s actually second on the list of places I like to hear my own name.”_

“Where’s the first?” She asked, clueless.

“ _You—you’re kidding, right Waves?”_

“No,” she knit her brows together in confusion. What on earth was Nicole talking abou—“Ohhh,” she said in her realization of Nicole’s implication, blush rising to her cheeks, “Well I’m quite fond of that place too.”

Waverly heard talking in the background on Nicole’s end and her girlfriend’s voice in the distance, meaning that they had probably reached the end of their time.

_“Hey, I gotta go baby, but I’ll see you at the game okay?”_

“Mhm.”

_“I’ll be looking for ya in the stands in warmups. Might even toss you a puck if you come down to the boards.”_

“How ‘bout you score me a goal instead?” She bargained.

“ _Hmmm,”_ Nicole pondered. _“I can’t exactly promise, but I’ll see what I can do.”_

“Alright alright,” she accepted. “You gotta go, good luck.”

“ _Thanks baby, bye.”_ Nicole answered and hung up to prepare for the game.

Waverly sat in the passenger seat of the truck, a content smile on her face as she looked at the snow that piled up along the sides of the highway, thinking about how happy and peaceful she had been. Just over a month ago she’d been on the complete opposite of the spectrum, stressed out and uncertain about her feelings for a certain redhead and about her sexuality in general. Everything had changed so suddenly when Nicole came into the picture, but now Waverly couldn’t imagine being in any other state in her life. The smile on her face was an external symbol of her internal joy.

“You guys are gross.” Wynonna’s scoff broke her out of her bubble. “She’s not even here and I can see you two making googly eyes at each other. You make _The Notebook_ look bleak.”

“I think you’re just jealous because you can’t do the same thing with _Doc_.” Waverly said with a roll of her eyes.

She saw her sister tense and keep her eyes trained on the road.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? You don’t have an _it’s complicated_ thing going on with a certain team doctor?”

“How would you know? You’re not the most observant.” Wynonna deflected, trying to turn the conversation to Waverly’s own obliviousness in her own love life up until recently.

“You’re not exactly subtle. Whenever he’s in the room, you can’t make eye contact, but you can’t take your eyes off of him as he leaves.” Wynonna stared her down incredulously and Waverly did have to admit that she didn’t become privy to this information based on her own observations. Wynonna was right because she had missed the shift in the woman’s relationship with Doc. “Fine, Nicole’s the one who noticed and told me. I didn’t believe her at first, but now I have proof.”

“During the snowstorm, the power outage, we had a few drinks in the office. And then we maybe, kinda sorta kissed, but he walked out before it could progress beyond that and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” Wynonna divulged all of the information in rapid succession. “I’m the one who does the leaving, who does he think he is?”

Her sister resorted to pouting like a moody teenager, and Waverly couldn’t help but laugh to herself. She added a, “You’ll figure it out, I’m sure, but you kinda need to talk to him to do that”, and left the conversation there.

\---

They’d gotten stuck sandwiched between Drillers fans who were less than accepting of their presence. When she and Wynonna had arrived, they were the first ones in their row, and had deposited their popcorn and bottled water on their seats before they went down to the boards to watch warmups. (This had elicited a smile out of Nicole, who, as promised, flipped a puck over the glass to them as a souvenir, rolling her eyes at the decoration of Wynonna’s face). When they’d returned to their section, more fans had started to file in in orange and navy-blue team colors, fixing the sisters with dirty looks toward their Devils’ jerseys. They’d made it known that their kind was not welcomed in this arena. They’d also been quite vocal in expressing their superiority when the Drillers took the lead on two separate occasions.

Now, as the third period rolled along knotted at two apiece, the tension between the fans was just as palpable as it was between the players battling on the ice.

The Drillers fans roared as their player won the puck back, but Waverly had cringed as she watched Nicole get laid out and turn the puck over on that very play.

“Someone needs to teach her how to get away from those.” Wynonna half-chuckled as they watched the girl quickly pull herself back up and readjust her helmet. “She’s gonna get hurt.”

As if Waverly didn’t know that. As if the thought didn’t sit in the back of her mind any time Nicole stepped on the ice. She knew to trust the skills of her incredibly talented, incredibly sexy, professional hockey player girlfriend, but she held her breath any time Nicole was in the crosshairs of a big shot or in the path of an opposing player ready to line up a hit on her. She cared, sue her.

This time, at least, the redhead looked no worse for wear and jumped right back into the play.

Five minutes later, when the Drillers rang the post with a shot, the crowd collectively rose from their seats in anticipation of a goal, gasping as it bounced off the iron and back into play. She heard Wynonna yell next to her, and had only a split second to save the poor guy who had accidentally spilt his beer onto her sister. She didn’t need them getting kicked out for starting a fight in the stands right as the game got into its most exciting stage.

“I wasn’t gonna hurt him,” Wynonna told her once she’d gotten her back into her seat. “Just wanted to show him what happened when he invades people’s personal space. Figured he would’ve learnt that in kindergarten, but I’d be glad to give him a refresher course.”

“Anything that involves you yelling, swearing and throwing your fists is not a _teaching moment_ , Wynonna.”

Wynonna dismissed her with a wave of her hand, turning her attention to the game, watching the home team cycle the puck in the attacking zone, looking for a shooting lane. As time wound down, chances were becoming harder and harder to come by, but it looked like Edmonton was knocking on the door of a good one the way they were sustaining offensive pressure.

Their big defender wound up for a shot, but it turned out to be a slap pass diagonally through a seam to her teammate at point blank range of the goal. Waverly honestly wasn’t even sure how the pass had gotten through, the Devils’ defense doing well to block the lane. The Drillers looked poised to take the lead on the play; the winger’s one-timer was looking at a gaping cage, but in Miller’s desperation, she dove across the blue paint and got the puck with her right arm. The puck was loose in the crease as the mad scramble ensued, until a Blue Devils defender found it and nudged it to her goaltender’s glove, Miller covering it and drawing a whistle.

The arena was buzzing now, the home fans feeling momentum continue to swing in their direction.

“ _Time out—Blue Devils.”_ She’d heard the PA announcer call, indicating that Nedley had needed to give his team a moment to regroup and draw up plans for the final 1:15 of the third period. She’d anticipate the top line to go out for this important juncture of the game, but what type of plan would Sheriff be drawing up? Would he play just secure the point and get to OT? Or would he go for the score right here and now, trying to get the win and add another two points over a division rival?

As a horn signaled the end of the timeout, she watched the top defensive pair skate onto the ice, along with Jenna and Shae—the first line wingers, and Nicole. He’d removed Nicole from her traditional line, which Waverly found odd, but trusted the coach’s decision. Nicole had been playing well, and her faceoff percentage had been climbing recently, so Waverly suspected Nedley wanted a virtually guaranteed win on the draw.

The two centers squared up in front of each other, settling in for the referee to drop the puck.

Timing it perfectly, Nicole won it back to her defenseman who passed the puck behind the net, and they worked the swing to get the puck up the ice. Harris received the pass from her defensive partner Carlson, snapping the puck up the left wing boards where Shae (on the side opposite to where she usually played) was waiting for it. Barreling up the center, Nicole found open space and the captain found her, giving the Devils a real chance. They’d caught the Drillers on their heels and were now capitalizing on a 2-on-1 with Shae and Nicole.

( _“One minute remaining in the period,”_ The PA announcer warned).

Nicole now had a decision to make take the shot, or make a pass. Shae slapped her stick on the ice, all but screaming for the puck for the shot. Waverly, even from where she sat (higher up in the arena than she would’ve liked), could see the look on Nicole’s face that told her she was going to shoot the whole way. Whether she faked the pass to throw off the goalie was another deal.

Whatever Waverly had expected, Nicole’s next move was even better.

Flying in on goal, Nicole took her space and faked a shot on her forehand to get the netminder moving, waved her stick over the puck but didn’t pick it back up on the deke, instead letting it slide through the goalie’s legs on one of the slickest trick plays Waverly had ever seen. At first glance, it may have looked like Nicole mishandled the puck and got lucky, but no, she had meant to do exactly that.

The ginger threw her hands in the air as she was mobbed by her teammates for scoring the go-ahead goal with just under a minute to go. Waverly caught Nicole’s eye as they skated toward the bench following the goal, and her girlfriend gave her a little look, acknowledging that she’d gotten her the goal she asked for. Her heart leapt.

_“Blue Devils goal scored by number fifteen, Nicole Haught, assisted by number eight, Shae Pressman and number sixty-five, Bethany Harris at 19:08.”_

As the PA announcer announced the specifics of the goal, the home crowd fell silent, their previous superiority complex all but vanishing.

“Haha! Take _that_ , suckers.” Wynonna taunted the Drillers fans sitting adjacent to them, ringing her cow bell. “WooHOO! That’s my baby sister’s girlfriend crossin’ up your goalie and makin’ your whole team look silly,” she said as she seized Waverly around the neck to emphasize her claim. The opposing fans looked more than disgruntled, and the big burly biker looking man seemed ready for a good old-fashioned donnybrook, especially as Wynonna had abandoned grabbing Waverly to free both her middle fingers to continue taunting them.

Apologizing, Waverly gathered all of their things and removed Wynonna from the situation before it could escalate. The game essentially over, she decided it best that they wait for Nicole down by the player entrance the redhead had told them to meet her at.

The two watched as the Devils began to file out of the door, some of them finding any family or friends they may have had at the game, others heading for the door toward the bus. It was a good few minutes after the majority of the players came out that Nicole walked through the door, followed by Jenna and Shae. Jenna split off to catch up with two people who Waverly presumed to be her parents, but Shae stayed back, giving Nicole a serious look. Waverly watched the interaction intently, sensing less than ideal vibes from whatever conversation was taking place. (Wynonna was too distracted by the team doctor to pay Nicole and Shae any mind).

It looked like a scene from a teen drama: Shae standing menacingly over Nicole like some HBIC cheerleader threatening the less popular girl, in this case Nicole, to stay out of her way (or in her lane, or to mind her own business, insert high school trope here). Nicole didn’t necessarily look intimidated, but much more subdued than Waverly might’ve expected, and the brunette grew curious as to what on earth the captain could have to say to her girlfriend. Especially considering that Nicole had scored the goal that had won them the game.

Shae broke the conversation and headed toward the bus door. Nicole adjusted the team baseball cap on her head as she shook off the conversation, searching momentarily for the Earp sisters. Waverly watched her eyes light up as they made eye contact, and she skipped over to meet her girlfriend halfway, enveloping her in a hug, stealing a quick peck from her lips.

“Congratulations! What a game!” She praised while still in the embrace.

“Hey, where the hell did that goal come from Deputy Dangles?” Wynonna interrupted, breaking up the couple’s hug to give Nicole a hug of her own. 

“I uh, honestly don’t know. I saw it on _SportsCenter_ a couple times, but I never even tried it in practice.” Nicole explained, though she seemed surprised herself. “I guess I saw the goalie look like she was ready to slide for a shot from Shae, and the opportunity was there.”

“You pulled a little sneaky on them, Haught,” Wynonna said, though her attention seemed to be pulled yet again by Doc. Waverly followed Wynonna’s eyes to see Doc smirking at her sister, and watched as Wynonna excused herself quickly from their conversation and make her way over to the man.

Wynonna gone, Waverly turned back to Nicole.

“Speaking of Shae,” she broached, “what was that over there? She seemed, pissed? Intense? Everything okay?”

Nicole sighed, gathering her explanation.

“Yeah, Sheriff pulled Shae, Jenna and me aside and said he liked the idea of playing us together on the first line, permanently,” Nicole started.

“That’s amazing, congratulations!”

Nicole blushed and thanked Waverly, but then continued.

“Shae pulled me aside and said that if we’re gonna play on a line together, I gotta stay out of her way and ‘ _let her get hers’_ , whatever that means. I think she’s pissed I didn’t pass her the puck on that last play.”

“That doesn’t sound very captainly.”

“She’s actually a pretty good captain, just not my biggest fan.” Waverly tilted her head, not understanding, so Nicole elaborated, “It’s a long story, but some things happened a few years back in college, and she’s still upset about it I guess. It’s not a big deal, don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be able to coexist. Bunny’s pressure to win will keep her from sabotaging the success of the team over a stupid grudge with me.”

Waverly wanted to probe, wanted to ask Nicole what happened back then that would make Shae feel this way toward her, but she figured her girlfriend would tell her if she wanted and if it were ever relevant enough to warrant explanation. She trusted Nicole, and so let it go, settling on focusing on the positive.

Her girlfriend had just scored a highlight reel, game-winning goal and got promoted to the top line on the same night. She was immensely proud. 

“Well, then I’m happy for you.” She stepped toward Nicole, bringing her into another hug, a grin breaking out onto her own face as she felt Nicole smile into their kiss.

As Nicole pulled away, she felt the girl tense, and Waverly grew concerned.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, but Nicole had gone stone-faced and serious, walking past her toward two people who she had failed to notice had entered the room.

She saw a man and a woman, dressed rather peculiarly for a hockey game, their attire more suitable for a Fleetwood Mac concert. It took not even two seconds for Waverly to deduce who these people were, what with their out-of-place getups and their bright red hair.

“Maureen. Patrick.” Nicole addressed the pair, her arms crossed, voice flat. From the very little Nicole had told her about her parents, she knew that they were hippies who never had any real interest in raising a child and that Nicole hadn’t spoken to them since she turned eighteen.

“Come on, we told you not to call us that. So stuffy.” The woman spoke.

“Well I can hardly call you mom or dad, now can I?” Nicole snipped back.

“Oh heavens no, don’t do that either. Please, you know we go by Celeste and River now.” The woman, Celeste, motioned toward her husband. She could hear the scoff come from Nicole at the statement of her parents’ “ridiculous hippy names”.

“What do you want?” Nicole pushed on, and Waverly could tell she wanted nothing to do with the two.

“That’s no way to talk to your parents, sunshine.” The man spoke this time.

Nicole set her jaw, the tension in her body now visible in her cheeks.

“You haven’t been my parents for the last three, almost four years.” She said bluntly. “And you were hardly my parents for the eighteen years before that, now were you?”

The woman spluttered, looking for an explanation.

“We may not have been the most _traditional_ parents, but we—”

“—The most _traditional parents_? Untraditional parents don’t set curfews, or they let their kids dye their hair whatever crazy color they want. You guys left me home alone the whole summer between second and third grade to backpack across the continent to Burning Man.” Nicole snapped, her first real bit of emotion since the encounter started. “I was home alone for two weeks until Uncle John and Aunt Kendra realized you’d split town.” Waverly’s heart broke at the mere thought of Nicole home alone at such a young age for such a long time. “Why’d you guys even come here?”

“We’ve seen you in the papers, heard your name around town, you’ve been doing so well. You’re already so successful, sunshine,” _River_ spoke, trying to step closer to his daughter, “We gave you some space to spread your wings, but it’s been long enough don’t you think? We thought we’d try to reconnect.”

Nicole laughed dryly to herself. Parents _giving space_ was a couple of weeks, maybe a month or so, not nearly four years. Waverly knew as well as her girlfriend did that the two adults in front of them were here only to capitalize on the redhead’s newfound celebrity and any monetary perks that came with it. That was the only reason they’d come around _now_ , and not at the funeral for Nicole’s aunt and uncle, when she would’ve needed her parents most.

“It’s a little late for that.” She said, putting back on her mask. The rest of the player entrance had cleared out, and catching a glimpse of Wynonna returning told Waverly that the bus was most likely ready to depart. “I gotta go, don’t try to _reconnect_ with me again. Please.”

Nicole’s words were firm and carried twenty-one, nearly twenty-two, years of finality in them. She was doing a good job of keeping emotion out of her voice, but Waverly knew this was reopening a lot of old wounds for her girlfriend.

She walked away without a response from the pair, Waverly following closely behind and Wynonna catching up to them confused.

Waverly grabbed Nicole’s hands and gave them a supportive squeeze.

“Don’t even try to tell me you’re fine, because I know you’re not.” She cut the redhead off before she could feed her a bullshit excuse.

Nicole looked at her softly, grateful.

“I’m not,” she admitted with a sigh, “but I will be.” She leaned down to kiss her girlfriend, resting their foreheads together once she broke it. “I gotta go, thanks for coming, and being here for me.”

“Always.” She replied with a smile. “I’ll see you when we’re both back in Purgatory.”

“Drive safe,” Nicole responded, looking pointedly at Wynonna. The woman assured she would, and Nicole turned to catch the team bus.

As the sisters walked out of the arena toward the truck, Wynonna eyed her curiously.

“What the hell did I miss?”

“It’s a long story, I’ll explain in the truck.” Waverly said, clocking the barely noticeable dishevelment of her sister’s hair, the smudging of her face paint, and how she’d pulled her turtleneck up a _little_ higher than it had been previously. “Where’d you disappear to?” she wiggled her brows suggestively.

“ _Shut up.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My inspiration for Nicole's goal is Nikita Kucherov's "no move" move goal in the 2018 NHL All-Star game, so slick and sneaky, I thought it'd be fun for Nicole to show off a little bit of flair on the game winner.


	11. Tis the Season for Some Joy

**(1) New Email**

From: Jeremy Chetri ([popculturenerd423@gmail.com](mailto:popculturenerd423@gmail.com))

Subject: NEW ARTICLE!!!

Nicole blinked sleep out of her eyes and propped sat herself up straighter in her seat on the bus. She’d been _more_ than glad to finally be home from yet another road trip. This one was only six days, but stops in Brampton, Winnipeg, Trois-Rivieres, and Mississauga had been exhausting. Compounding this, their flight back from Ontario had been delayed due to a snowstorm sitting over Manitoba, and the team bus back to their home arena was a less than ideal mode of transportation, especially at 3 am right before Christmas.

She opened her phone to read Jeremy’s article. Ever since Waverly had more formally introduced her to the reporter, she found the boy to be quite charming, if not a little socially awkward at times. At some point during a night she and Waverly spent out at Shorty’s with Jeremy and his (maybe-kinda) boyfriend Robin, absolutely butchering 90’s pop songs, Nicole had made a deal with the writer that he’d send her advanced copies of anything he wrote for the local paper.

Nicole found the attachment [BlueDevilsOnFire.docx] along with a short message from Jeremy to let her know what she thought of the piece.

**_PURGATORY GAZETTE  
_ ** **_ SPORTS: _ ** **_An Early Christmas Present for Bunny Loblaw_ **

**_Story by Jeremy Chetri_ **

(Nicole rolled her eyes at the article title with a hint of a laugh).

_After a rocky start to their relationship, tensions seemed to have eased between the players and upper management of the Purgatory Blue Devils. As many recall, the first month of the new CEWHL season was defined by comments fired back and forth between the two groups over the demands for success for the hometown squad. The feud drew league-wide and national news, as all eyes fell on the Ghost River Triangle and questions arose of how the weight of the expectations would impact the players._

_Luckily for Bunny Loblaw, it looks like she may have gotten an early Christmas present. Her team currently sits on top of the BC/AB Division, the Western Conference, and the standings for the Entire league with a record of 27-8-2 (11-0-1 in the month of December to date, following the win against Mississauga Mayhem). This season’s performance would be incredible by normal standards, but for a team that had been living beneath the basement of the league, it’s downright astronomical._

_It seems that when it rains it pours for the Devils, who have made a miraculous turnaround from just a season ago. Purgatory has gotten production up and down the lineup, and outstanding goaltending play from their main tandem: second-year standout Lauren Miller, and the offseason acquisition Sabine Legrand. Miller is making a strong argument for the Rheaume Trophy, the league’s top goaltending prize, boasting a .923 SV% and a 2.54 GAA._

_Miller’s strong performance is not the only thing gaining league-wide award talk. The Devils’ top line of Jenna Boardman, Nicole Haught and Shae Pressman, recently assembled by coach Randy Nedley, has drawn attention as one of the most productive and dynamic across the entire league. The two rookies, Boardman and Haught, are high in the early polls for the Ranscombe Trophy for league’s best first-year player. Pressman and Haught are vying for the scoring title and are among the players on the shortlist for the MVP trophy. Of course, when I asked the players about these prizes, they all had the same answer: “None of the individual stuff matters if the team’s not hoisting the cup at the end of the year.”_

_Things are looking more than great for the red-hot Blue Devils, and with all of Purgatory behind them, the team aims to continue at this high level._

She quickly shot an email back to Jeremy, telling him she thought it was great, even if the title was a little cheesy.

Nicole sighed contently to herself, looking around at the darkened bus, the rest of her teammates fast asleep as they approached Purgatory. She’d take the long travel days and the hectic schedules and even the batshit crazy owners any day as long as it meant she’d get to keep doing _this_ —playing the game she loved surrounded by people who loved it just as much. She knew there was something special on this team, something special about what they were doing. Beyond the goals and the wins, they were a team who wholeheartedly banded together to play for each other, who didn’t care about their individual achievements and only cared about each and every single one of their teammates. (Well for the most part—she’d take what she could get with Shae. The winger hadn’t gone out of her way to be chilly to her anymore, but Nicole hadn’t quite developed the bond with Shae that she’d had with her previous two linemates. As long as Nicole was providing her with opportunities to score, Shae seemed content enough, and Nicole supposed that was going to be as good as it got with her).

As they passed the sign indicating they were nearly entering Purgatory, Nicole felt a happiness well up within her—the joy of coming home. Because that’s what this was, she decided. Purgatory was home. Edmonton may have been where she grew up, and she always knew it would be a part of her, but it hadn’t been _home_ in years. But this sleepy little town, with a coach that took a chance on her, and a girl who she was _sure_ was too good for this world, and a best friend (?) who was just different enough from her to make it work, was more of a home than Nicole could’ve ever asked for. She’d been more than confident to say that everything good in her life right now was tied to this place.

The bus lights flipped on abruptly, waking the others, a chorus of groans breaking the silence. Coach stood up at the front, addressed the team briefly and then departed the vehicle. The rest of the team disembarked and entered the arena, dumping their equipment bags in the locker room. Nicole smiled widely as she looked around the lobby at the Christmas decorations she and Waverly put up after they’d returned from Edmonton.

\---

_Nicole put the last box of extra Blue Devils Christmas sweaters away in the storage room before locking up the excess merchandise. They’d waited the team’s return from their early December road trip to decorate for the holidays, and Nicole honestly had never seen Waverly so cheerful. She’d walked into work this morning to find the girl already there, Santa hat on and her Christmas playlist playing on a speaker in the lobby._

_As they worked, fake Christmas trees with fake snow made from cut up pieces of felt were in all four corners of the lobby, and little twinkling lights adorned the walls. It wasn’t quite Santa’s Village at the mall, but somehow the fake snowflake cutouts and garland on the wall were so Christmas-y and so_ Waverly _, that it’d put even Ebeneezer Scrooge in the Christmas spirit._

_It was the simple things about her girlfriend that made Nicole happy. She especially appreciated the way she’d calmed her down after the encounter with her parents in Edmonton. She’d been able to hold it together for the trip home before she lost her resolve on the phone call she’d made to Waverly (with the initial intention of telling her she’d gotten home safely). It had been just past 4 am, and she wasn’t sure exactly what she expected, but when Waverly Earp showed up at her door with her big ass heart and her soothing soul, Nicole melted as she poured out years of unresolved family issues she’d thought she’d done well to repress. Waverly had been a listening ear and a loving shoulder to cry on through it all._

_“Wait, wait, wait,” Waverly stopped her from entering the lobby from the team store. As if she could, what with her girlfriend on a ladder blocking the doorway. Waverly had tacked something up before climbing down with a proud smile on her face. “Ta-da!” she proclaimed, pointing for Nicole to look upwards._

_There, up on the door frame, she saw a sprig of mistletoe, hung for all to see._

_She smiled as she shook her head at Waverly._

_“Waves, you can’t hang mistletoe in the lobby.”_

_“It’s not in the lobby.” Waverly argued mischievously. “It’s in the doorway, and I do believe that you owe me a kiss.”_

_“Well,” she said, pulling the girl in, “when you put it that way…”_

_The way Waverly smiled against her lips was all she could’ve ever asked for for Christmas._

_\---_

If she wasn’t so exhausted, Nicole would’ve thought about Christmas Eve dinner at the homestead later on tonight, but her only thought as she exited the arena on her way to her car was getting back to her apartment without falling asleep behind the wheel. She flipped on the radio in hopes of keeping herself up just long enough to make it into the driveway and up the stairs to collapse in bed.

She’d done exactly that, pushing her way through the door to her less than festively decorated apartment. She hadn’t spent the time to “Christmas it up” because she knew that there’d hardly be a second of free time to be spent here with the hectic December schedule. (That didn’t stop Waverly from making and bringing her a coat hanger Christmas tree, which Nicole placed prominently on the small coffee table in her living area).

However, Nicole didn’t dwell on the emptiness of the apartment, instead quickly making her way to her bed, finally glad to stretch out on something that wasn’t a hotel mattress, airplane, or bus seat. She fell asleep almost instantly.

\---

Nicole pulled her car into the driveway of the Earp homestead, smiling as she pulled the bags out of her backseat. When she woke up just before noon, she’d texted Waverly to see if there was anything that she could bring to the dinner to which her girlfriend responded that she need only bring herself. However, not wanting to show up empty handed, Nicole grabbed the bottle of wine that Finning had brought over to dinner and a film session that she’d had with her two linemates earlier in the season.

She walked up the couple wooden steps to the front door of the Earp home, but didn’t even have to knock before she was met with the bright smiling face of her girlfriend. She hadn’t even gotten a word in before Waverly had pulled her in for a kiss.

“Well Merry Christmas to me.” Nicole said, grinning stupidly as the kiss was broken.

“I missed you,” Waverly said, running her hand tenderly up Nicole’s arm as they stood on the porch. “And I saw your flight was delayed, last night I was worried you might not make it to dinner.”

“I told you I’d be home for Christmas,” she smirked. “Do you need me to sing the song for you?”

“No, no,” Waverly said, “but you could do one thing for me.”

“Name it.”

Waverly nodded upward to another sprig of mistletoe in the doorway, and Nicole took the direction, leaning in to close the gap between the two.

“Yo! PDA!” A voice interrupted their actions. Nicole internally cursed the fact the timing of Wynonna Earp was impeccable. “You’re letting all the heat out, get in here and make yourselves useful.”

The two entered the home, closing the door and followed Wynonna into the kitchen where she was placing food dishes on the table, with Gus standing at the oven, pulling something out that smelled divine.

Waverly offered to take her jacket, and Nicole shrugged it off, giving it to the younger Earp as she offered her help in the kitchen.

“If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times,” Gus said as she waved a spoon at her, “Nicole Haught, as long as you’re a guest in this house, you’re gonna act like one and let the hosts do the work.”

“Okay,” Nicole nodded, not wanting to get into a back and forth with the woman, retrieving the bottle she’d brought from one of the bags she had. “I couldn’t come empty handed, so I brought a bottle of wine.”

“Thank you dear, just set it down there on the table, that won’t last very long here tonight.”

Nicole did as she was told, and retrieved plates and utensils to help set the table for dinner.

Waverly returned from hanging up Nicole’s jacket, and minutes later, everything was all set for dinner, Gus urging them all to sit around the table. Nicole had been to more than a few dinners at the homestead since she’d befriended the Earps, but hadn’t been to one with Gus there since she and Waverly started dating, so she was certain there’d be an interrogation similar to the Spanish Inquisition. To her surprise, there was none of that, quite the opposite really. While Gus hadn’t said anything explicitly, she looked at Nicole not with calculated judgment, but an accepting and approving look. Most of the actual conversation centered on the woman telling embarrassing stories about Waverly and Wynonna as children, and Nicole found it absolutely adorable the way her girlfriend pouted, or her ears turned bright red with each moment her aunt was bringing up. Wynonna on the other hand proudly acknowledged every instance of rebellion and juvenile antics with a smug smile and a nod.

Nicole hadn’t felt this much family in a long time. Not since she’d been able to spend Christmas with her aunt and uncle. So to sit here, feeling accepted and loved, like she belonged, that meant everything to her. This was her family for as long as they would have her, she concluded.

They moved to the den once dinner had finished, just enjoying each other’s company for a while. When Wynonna, mixing her “hardly-eggnog” eggnog with hot chocolate, entered the room with wrapped parcels, Nicole gently pulled Waverly off of her lap to get the bags she brought. She delivered the small bag containing a maple scented candle she’d gotten from a shop they stopped by in Quebec that she’d brought for Gus, earning a grateful smile from the woman who insisted she hadn’t needed to get her anything.

As she moved on to Wynonna, they exchanged their gifts, Wynonna insisting Nicole open hers first.

“ _Golden Girls_ pins!” She said excitedly as she tore into the parcel. Wynonna nodded and urged her to continue. “Shot glasses?”

“ _Matching_ shot glasses.” Wynonna pointed out, grabbing the box. “One for you, and one for your best friend, _moi._ ”

Nicole chuckled at the interaction, but mostly found herself glad that Wynonna considered her her best friend too.

“Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?” Waverly said with an amused tone in her voice, eyeing the shot glasses. “I know which one’s yours ‘Nonna.”

Wynonna shot her sister an unamused look before telling Nicole to open the last part of the gift.

Nicole did as told, finding…

“A keychain?” She asked, examining the strange object, small round metal keychain with 5 buttons on it.

“Press a button,” Wynonna said excitedly.

Doing that caused a _“Smooth moves Ginger Spice”_ to come out of a speaker Nicole didn’t even see.

“All the buttons have a little motivational phrase from yours truly for when you need a lil’ pick me up.”

And as stupid and trivial as the gift was, and now matter how much she swore she hated Wynonna’s nicknames, there was something so meaningful about the thought that went behind it. (Having a button that said _“Nicole Haught you glorious ginger bitch”_ was a nice bonus too she supposed).

“Thank you Wynonna,” she said, giving the older woman a hug. “Now open yours.”

Not having to be told twice, Wynonna took a seat on the floor and rifled through the tissue paper in the top of the bag, before removing a box containing the very same sarcastic Magic 9 Ball Wynonna had pointed out in a shop in town a few weeks ago.

“Dude, you didn’t.” Wynonna said, jaw all but on the floor, tearing into the box like a seven-year-old.

“I did.” She responded, happy that her friend clearly enjoyed the gift, no matter how novel it was. “There’s one more thing, open it.”

From the bag Wynonna produced a dark black bag, emblazoned with a skull and crossbones (not unlike the bottles of poison in cartoons) and the words _WORLD’S STRONGEST COFFEE: Drink if you dare._ Reading the bag, Wynonna jumped up from her seat and squeezed Nicole tightly before running off into the kitchen.

Nicole confused, turned to Waverly for explanation, but the younger girl only shrugged.

“Wynonna, what’re you doing?” She called from the den.

“I’m gonna put whiskey in this coffee, and then I’m gonna fight God.”

 _Fair enough_ , Nicole thought to herself, not expecting anything less at this point. (Gus shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose at the disaster of a woman that was her niece).

Satisfied, Nicole returned to where she had sat with her girlfriend, who was holding a gift box in her lap and stars in her eyes.

“Open,” she said, thrusting the box into Nicole’s hands.

Tearing off the paper and peeling the tape off of the box itself, Nicole opened it to see some sort of navy-blue garment. Holding it up to examine it, she recognized it as the hoodie that she’d lent to Waverly on the first day they met. It seemed that only now did she realize that Waverly had yet to return the article of clothing.

“I realized that I never gave it back to you after you lent it to me,” Waverly said with a shy smile.

“I think you should keep it,” she responded, “looks better on you anyways.” She added with a wink.

Waverly accepted, giving Nicole the sneaking suspicion that she had hoped for this outcome anyway, and told her to keep opening.

Underneath the hoodie was another small box, from which Nicole produced a small, heart-shaped locket with a photo of the two of them taken the night of their first official date. Nicole held the locket close to her heart as she remembered the night fondly.

But, she didn’t have long to reminisce because Waverly had taken the last item out of the box, almost bouncing with excitement, eagerly encouraging her to examine the contents of the envelope in her hand.

Inside was a folded up piece of CEWHL letterhead addressed to her.

_Dear Miss Haught,_

_On behalf of the CEWHL Board of Operations and the coaches league wide, I would like to inform you that you have been chosen to represent the Western Conference at this year’s All-Star Game in Toronto. The assembly of all 28 coaches from all 4 divisions have taken great notice of your performance this season, and recognize the importance of your contribution to the success of the Purgatory Blue Devils._

_This year’s All-Star Weekend will take place from Friday, January 27 th through Sunday, January 29th in the city of Toronto, Ontario. More specific details will be relayed to you as the date approaches._

_Again, we congratulate you on all of your achievements this season, and wish you the best of luck on the rest of your season._

_Sincerely,_

_Eliza R. Shapiro_

_CEWHL League Commissioner_

Nicole could hardly believe her eyes, reading and re-reading the letter over again to make sure of what the words on the paper were saying to her.

“It came into the mail at the arena the other day, while you guys were in Winnipeg.” Waverly explained. “Nedley told me before you left for the road trip that the letters would probably come in before you got back. I wanted to surprise you.”

“This,” Nicole paused, still trying to find words. “Is the best surprise I could’ve gotten.”

“I’m so _incredibly_ proud of you.” Waverly said, pulling her in for a celebratory kiss. Through the bliss of their kiss, Nicole found herself a bit insecure about the gift she’d brought Waverly. Everything she’d gotten from her girlfriend was so thoughtful and sentimental, and she was sure that nothing she could offer in return could match that.

“I got you something, but now I don’t know how it’ll live up to that.” She said sheepishly, but Waverly assured her that her simply being _Nicole Haught_ was more than enough of a Christmas present.

Still insecure, she watched Waverly pull out a pile of postcards and examine them curiously.

“Everywhere we went, I bought a postcard because I thought of all the places we could visit together, or just how much I missed seeing your face every day.” She explained, blushing shyly. “I wrote a little note on each one.”

As the girl read through all of them, her smile grew, but so did Nicole’s anxiety. She knew she was taking a big risk with the very last one, and hoped what she wrote wasn’t crossing a line.

When Waverly finally reached the card from Edmonton, she found the angel wing necklace Nicole had picked out for her taped to the front of it. Before Waverly could flip the card, Nicole reached out to take her hand, stopping her just a moment.

“I saw this in a shop in Quebec and I immediately thought of you,” she started. “When I got here, I was struggling a lot finding a sense of belonging and family. I’ve been thinking a lot about the past few months and the one thing I kept coming back to was how immediately drawn I was to you, that somehow, someway you were going to be important to me. Especially when you were there for me after Edmonton and the confrontation with my parents. You’ve been like an angel sent to me, so when I saw this I knew it was perfect.”

It was more than she originally intended to say, but it all spilled out. She watched the tears well up in Waverly’s eyes, hopefully telling her that she was saying the right things.

“Nicole, I…” she mustered in a watery voice, flipping over the card to see the words Nicole had written after Edmonton.

**_I think I’m kinda in love with you_ **

Waverly looked up from the card, and Nicole worried for a second that just barely two months was definitely too early into their relationship to make that sort of declaration. But instead Waverly yet again closed the gap between them and rested her forehead against Nicole’s.

“I think I’m kinda in love with you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because we really needed some cheer after this week :)


	12. Hey Now, You're An All-Star

**From:** Eliza R. Shapiro <[commissioner@cewhl.com](mailto:commissioner@cewhl.com)>

 **To:** Nicole R. Haught <[nhaught@bluedevilscewhl.com](mailto:nhaught@bluedevilscewhl.com)>

 **Subject:** All-Star Weekend

Congratulations again on your All-Star selection!

Below you will find your itinerary for the weekend of 27 Jan-29 Jan (NOTE: all times are local Toronto times):

Friday 27 January:

  * 3:00 PM: Hotel check-in at Fairmont Royal York (one room reserved for players/families unless otherwise requested)
  * 5:00 PM-6:00 PM: Media availability
  * 7:00 PM: CEWHL All-Star Skills Competition 
    * Hardest Shot
    * Fastest Skater
    * Save Streak
    * Accuracy Shooting
    * Skills Relay



Saturday 28 January:

  * 6:00 PM: 3v3 Tournament 
    * Game 1: AB/BC Division All-Stars vs. MB/SK Division All-Stars
    * Game 2: ON/QC Division All-Stars vs. Maritime Division All-Stars
    * Game 3: Loser of G1 vs. Loser of G2
    * Game 4: Winner of G1 vs. Winner of G2



Sunday 29 January: 

  * 3:00 PM: CEWHL All-Star Game—Western Conference All-Stars vs. Eastern Conference All-Stars



We look forward to seeing you in Toronto.

Sincerely,

Commissioner Shapiro

\---

Nicole double-checked her email from the commissioner as she dragged hers and Waverly’s suitcase down the hallway to their hotel room, re-familiarizing herself with the schedule for the next few days. She still couldn’t believe she was here, not only for All-Star Weekend, but participating in the event as well.

With four total, the Blue Devils had had the most participants selected to the Western team—Nicole, Jenna, Miller and Shae. Nicole found herself slightly relieved that Shae had been chosen as well this year, because she could only imagine the attitude she’d receive from the woman, as if Nicole had been trying to one-up her all along.

When she’d gotten the itinerary emailed to her just after Christmas, she’d immediately hoped that Waverly could find a way to join her for the weekend so that they could do all the stupid touristy Toronto stuff together. Gus had assured the girls that the rink could manage without them for a few days, though she and Waverly were both skeptical of leaving day-to-day maintenance in the hands of Robin, Champ and Wynonna.

Nicole had planned a couple outings for the pair, based around the league’s itinerary. They’d gotten in late Wednesday night and spent a couple days in a cheap motel just outside the city, and spent all day Thursday sightseeing in Toronto before attending the Raptors game against the Celtics. (Waverly had surprised her with the tickets for her birthday). 

She replied to a couple of texts from teammates back home wishing her luck while Waverly opened the door to their suite, revealing the king-sized bed and luxury amenities that the four-star hotel had to offer. Her girlfriend looked like a kid in a candy store, looking around the room and _oohing_ and _aahing_ at every little shiny thing it contained.

“Nicole, look at this view!” She squealed, peering out the window to look at the bustling cityscape from their room on the 13th floor. It had been the same thing Waverly had been saying since they arrived, but Nicole reminded herself that her girlfriend had never even so much as left Purgatory and found her excitement endearing. She stationed herself right behind Waverly at the window, wrapping her arms around smaller girl and resting her chin on her girlfriend’s head.

“It is something huh?” Nicole mused, “But I think I’ve got a better one right here.”

“Is that so?” Waverly spun herself in Nicole’s arms to nuzzle into her neck.

“Mhm.” She hummed, pressed a kiss to the girl’s head, “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Thank you for inviting me.” Nicole watched the smirk grow on Waverly’s face as she eyed the bed across the room. “God, look at that bed, I bet it’s really, _really_ comfy.”

The thought was enticing to Nicole, knowing that there was absolutely no possibility of a certain someone interrupting them. She loved Wynonna, but having a few days alone with Waverly was a much better prospect.

“I’ve got an hour before media day starts, why don’t we test it out?” She said more than suggestively, and well Waverly didn’t have to be asked twice as she led the two across the room, barely making it to the bed before any and all articles of clothing were hastily discarded.

\---

Nicole barely made it to her assigned media location on time. She’d barely managed to get out of bed with Waverly with enough time to redress and get to the elevator, and once she’d gotten down to the first floor, she realized she’d left her player access badge in her backpack and frantically jabbed at the up arrow to get back to the room. This had earned a confused look from the woman still lying half naked in the bed as Nicole swept in and rummaged through her bag and ran out of the room just as quickly as she had entered it. As she jogged into the conference area, slightly out of breath and her Blue Devils jacket haphazardly thrown on, she saw Shae roll her eyes and barely heard her mumble something along the lines of _“Fuckin’ rookies”_. 

She answered a few questions as a part of the Blue Devils group before each of them was approached by a different reporter. Hers was an analyst she recognized from the league’s morning report show, a cameraman trailing behind him.

“Vance Kerr, CEWHL Network,” the reporter extended a handshake in introduction. “For rookies and first-time All-Stars, you’ll be partaking in the _Get to Know You_ portion of media day. Your local fans may know who you are but this will be a good way to introduce you to the whole league.”

“Makes sense, let’s do it.”

She’d been sent a list of questions to think her answers over beforehand so that she wouldn’t be caught off guard on camera and knew what to expect.

The cameraman flipped on the camera, and Nicole flinched a bit at the sudden beam of light being shone in her face.

“Vance Kerr here in Toronto for the CEWHL’s All-Star Weekend with the red hot Blue Devil’s red hot rookie, Nicole Haught,” he introduced, talking to the camera. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at his phrasing, not wanting it to show on camera. “Nicole, welcome. Tell me, how does it feel to be here at your first All-Star game in your first season?”

“It’s honestly surreal, I’m just trying to take it all in. So many stars and so much talent in one place, I’m just happy to be a part of it.”

“Well, your performance this year definitely shows you deserve to be here. How much are you thinking about taking home that rookie of the year trophy at the end of it all?”

“Not really. I’ve never really been worried about individual awards, as long as the team is winning and I’m doing my part that’s all that matters to me.”

“That’s something I’m sure the organization and fans back home love to hear. I’m sure they know you pretty well back there in Purgatory, but why don’t we let the rest of the league get to know Nicole Haught?” Nicole nodded in response. “First question: what’s one thing you can’t leave behind when you go out on road trips?”

“I’ve got a teddy bear named Duke, he’s kinda a good luck charm, so he’s always the first thing in the suitcase.” She answered, remembering the slightly deformed bear with the missing eye she and Waverly had come across while stocking the store just before the season started. Both of them agreed that while he couldn’t be sold in the shop, he deserved a loving home anyway, and Nicole took him in.

“And what about a dream vacation destination? Or a favorite you’ve had?”

“I’ve always wanted to go rock climbing in Nevada, or spend a couple weeks somewhere on a nice beach. Maybe a road trip down to Austin for tacos?”

“Certainly a lot to choose from,” she elicited a chuckle from the reporter, who moved on again. “I take it that’s your favorite food then? Tacos?”

“Yeah, easily.”

“Hulu or Netflix?”

“Hmm, Netflix in general, but Hulu has my favorite show.”

“Which is?”

“ _Golden Girls.”_

If she recalled the list of questions correctly, she knew what question was next.

“Single or taken?” (She’d remembered correctly). She’d remembered reading the list, thinking about how blatantly junior high that both the question and the phrasing were.

“Taken.” She smiled anyway, thinking of her girl upstairs.

“Is it a bad boy or an ideal son-in-law?” The reporter was going off-script, and Nicole found herself caught kind of off guard.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” She asked, making sure she heard him correctly.

“Bad boy or an ideal son-in-law?” He repeated, reading the question from the list in his hands.

Nicole decided to take the question in stride.

“Oh, well it’s not an ideal son-in-law, but an ideal daughter-in-law.” She smiled, choosing to ignore the fact that she’d literally just come out on a national news network.

“Perfect answer.” He responded. “Last question: can you tell us who has the worst music taste on the team?”

“I don’t know if I can say worst _taste_ , but I can tell you the worst singers on the team.”

“Please, do tell.”

“God, they’re gonna kill me, but it’s gotta be Beth and Christi—Harris and Carlson. They should probably stick to hockey and leave the singing to Lizzo and Adele.”

“Well, thank you Nicole, and congrats on the All-Stars, and good luck going forward.”

“Thank you.”

Once the camera had turned off, Vance informed her that the segment would air in the morning on his show, just as the event coordinator had announced media availability had ended, dismissing the players to head toward the arena for the Skills competition.

\---

** CEWHL.com Mid-Season Storylines **

As we head into the All-Star Break, CEWHL analysts reflect on some of the on-ice storylines that have defined the season so far.

 **Toronto Not So Triumphant:** The Toronto Triumph, once a perennial playoff contender, have not performed to anywhere near that level, and questions are circulating if they are entering rebuild territory. The retirement of Eleanor Wilkins and the free agency departure of Erin MacLeod have changed the makeup of this once powerhouse in the Eastern Conference. All reports coming from the Toronto management say that the team will be looking to make big moves before February’s trade deadline to make a push in the competitive ON/QC Division, but will it be too little, too late?

 **Too Early to Call Defensive Player of the Year?:** The St. John’s defense has been stellar to this point, thanks in no small part to the play of veteran defender Georgette Thayer. Thayer leads the league in blocked shots and +/-, and her influence has spread throughout the team, propelling the Ice Dogs, who have allowed the fewest goals in the league, to the top of the Maritime Division.

 **Finally the Year for Pressman?:** The number one overall pick from five seasons ago already has all the numbers to put her in elite company, but the one thing Shae Pressman lacks is a ring to go with it. Playing on an under-performing Purgatory (previously Vancouver) Blue Devils team has hindered the star’s attempts to get to the pinnacle of the league’s success. Pressman, whose contract was set to expire this past offseason, was persuaded to stay with the team following a historically abysmal season and through the relocation by being named team captain. The five-time All-Star (including captaining this year’s Western Conference squad), said that she wanted to stick it out, and it looks so far that that was the right decision. Pressman has played no small part in the team’s turnaround, but playing with a fortified roster and unexpected talent has rejuvenated the Blue Devils franchise as they look poised to go for it all this postseason.

 **From Last Overall to ROY (or MVP)?:** The deadliest and most exciting line in the CEWHL is also the most unlikely. Randy Nedley has assembled a line comprised of his two number one overall picks—Jenna Boardman and Shae Pressman—and centered it with the last overall pick in last June’s draft. The head coach has said of his outstanding rookie: “She’s a worker, she’s worked hard to get here, but she’s smart and she sees the game better than anyone I’ve seen in a long, long time.” Nicole Haught’s rise from obscurity to stardom has been rapid, unexpected, and exciting to watch. She leads all CEWHL rookies in goals and assists, and has seen an uptick in her production since being promoted to the top line. Haught and Boardman continue to lead Rookie of the Year conversations, but some league analysts are beginning to see Haught as a real contender for league’s Most Valuable Player.

_Friday, January 27_

\---

The next morning, she and Waverly chose to go down to hotel breakfast in one of the restaurants, even though staying in bed and ordering room service had been more than tempting. With All-Star events not taking place until late in the afternoon, they had a few hours to themselves, which they had planned to fill at the Royal Ontario Museum.

Waverly was going on excitedly about how she was looking forward to the Egyptian Mummies exhibit when Nicole caught a glimpse of someone she hadn’t expected out of the corner of her eye.

_What on Earth was she doing here?_

“Wynonna?” Waverly asked once she’d also spotted the woman, looking just as confused as Nicole felt.

“What’re you doing here?” Nicole questioned.

“Oh, you know…Just in the neighborhood.”

“All the way across the country?”

“A girl can’t come visit her sister and her best friend on their vacation?”

“It’s just a little weird, don’t you think?” Nicole noted, still confused, but mostly skeptical.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you just come with us if you wanted to…” Waverly trailed off, someone approaching the table seeming to answer her question.

“Good morning, Miss Haught, Miss Earp.” Doc tipped his cap to the two seated at the table, “Lovely morning isn’t it?”

“Mhm, yeah it is.” Nicole answered, teasingly eying Wynonna who was looking a little like she’d just been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. “Are you guys here for breakfast, too?”

“As a matter of fact, we are.”

“You should join us. We haven’t even ordered yet.” Waverly invited.

Doc thanked the pair and pushed a nearby table next to the one occupied by Waverly and Nicole and pulled out the seat for Wynonna to sit.

“I didn’t even know you were in town, Doc.” Waverly noted, sipping from her mimosa.

“When Sheriff Nedley was selected to coach the Western Conference at this weekend’s festivities, he requested that our training staff come along as well, and the league granted that request.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Mhm, and where did Wynonna Earp come into this?” Nicole probed, Wynonna shooting daggers at her.

“Why, I invited her of course.” Doc explained. “I found it quite a lovely opportunity to spend some time away from Purgatory together since we are—”

“—best friends.” Wynonna interrupted, elbowing him in the ribs.

Doc looked at her quizzically for a moment, meeting Wynonna’s warning stare, but agreed with her in the end.

Nicole pulled out her phone with the intention of texting Wynonna a message, something along the lines of _“Dude, Waves and I both know you’re sleeping with Doc”_ , but the sheer number of messages and notifications that had taken up her phone screen were alarming. She opened just a couple from her group chat with Finning and Powers, and was more than a little lost.

**Shan: DUDE!**

**Shan: YOU ICON!**

**Vic: Proud of you you stupid little lesbian**

“What’s wrong Nicole?” Waverly asked, sensing the shift in her demeanor.

“I, uh…I’m not sure,” she answered, opening up her Twitter after the surprising number of notifications she had received. Before she could even get to her mentions, Nicole saw her face plastered all over her own timeline, attached to the interview she’d given yesterday.

_Oh._

“Bro!” Wynonna exclaimed, causing the few restaurant patrons to turn their heads toward the table. “You’re trending on Twitter.”

“I see that.”

“You’re kinda a gay icon now, look.” Wynonna said as she showed her the top tweets under the trend, most of them freaking out and obsessing over her comment about Waverly in that interview. It was kind of funny, if Nicole was being honest, and it seemed harmless enough, so she decided to just take in this newfound celebrity.

“Now, why on earth would Miss Haught be a gay icon?” Doc interjected, Wynonna snorting with laughter from beside him.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” Doc shrugged his shoulders, still not understanding. Waverly reached her hand across the table to take Nicole’s hand in hers, trying to give him a hint. “Oh, you mean to tell me that you two are romantically involved?”

“Yes Doc.” Nicole chuckled, bringing Waverly’s hand up to place a kiss on her knuckles.

“And, that would make you an icon because?”

“She gave an interview yesterday where the reporter asked if she was dating a bad boy or an ideal son-in-law, and little miss Girl in Red said that it wasn’t an ideal son-in-law, but an ideal daughter-in-law.”

Waverly cooed, endeared by the way Nicole had so boldly said that on a major network.

“Well then, congratulations are in order, Miss Icon.” Doc raised his glass of water to salute her.

\---

**meena** **@pxck_bxnny**

“nOt aN iDeaL sOn-iN-LaW, bUt An IdEaL DAUGHTER-IN-LAW” !!! I think **Nicole Haught** just became my favorite hockey player

_28 Jan—11:30 AM EST_

\---

**Rachel** **🌈** **@racheLGBTs**

Not a huge hockey fan, but **Nicole Haught** laughing in the face of heteronormativity is SO important

_28 Jan—9:45 AM MST_

\---

**✨** **queen** **✨** **@sammybabyyyy**

If God hates the gays then why do we keep WINNING

_28 Jan—1:37 PM EST_

\---

**PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

OUR STARS SHINE BRIGHT! Nicole Haught tallies 1G and 2A, and Shae Pressman scores a hat-trick to help the Western Conference All-Stars defeat the Eastern Conference 7-5.

_29 Jan—9:30 PM MST_

\---

**PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

That’s OUR captain!!! Shae Pressman has been named this year’s All-Star MVP

_29 Jan—9:35 PM MST_


	13. Watch Your Mouth

The Blue Devils immediately took off for a three-game road trip on the Monday following the All-Star Game, looking to extend their win streak from six games, to a franchise record-tying nine games. And they did just that, following a 4-2 win in Prince Albert, a 3-2 win in Steinbach and a clutch 1-0 shootout win in Brandon.

As far as Nicole was concerned, things were going more than great. Bunny hadn’t been nearly as vocal as she had been earlier in the season, the team was winning, and she was producing at levels not even she could’ve imagined she was capable of. They’d locked up a playoff spot halfway through January, but were looking to win the division and the conference to secure home ice advantage throughout the playoffs.

Everything had been going so well, in fact, that when Nicole had received a call from Nedley while she and Waverly were enjoying breakfast on a rare day off following the team’s return from the most recent road trip, she was a little more than confused. The coach had told her that she’d been needed for a meeting that afternoon, but hadn’t said for what specifically.

Pulling up to the arena in Waverly’s Jeep, Nicole mentally rolled through everything she had done within the last couple weeks that could warrant a meeting with the team’s head coach, her mind drawing a blank. She figured that it couldn’t be too serious, or else she would’ve remembered it.

Following Waverly into the ticket office, she took a quick glance at the clock, seeing she’d had about ten minutes before she had to meet with Nedley. Or so she thought when she saw that her phone was ringing and it was the Sheriff yet again.

“Hello?” She answered.

“ _Nicole? Are you here already?”_

“Yeah, I thought I had ten minutes, but I can come meet you in your office right now if you’re already ready.” Waverly eyed her questioningly from across the room and mouthed a “what’s that?” to Nicole, who just shrugged her shoulders.

“ _Actually, we’re gonna have the meeting upstairs in the film room.”_

“Okay, I’ll be right up coach.” Nicole said, ending the call. She found it odd that Nedley would be cryptic about something so mundane as a film meeting, but chalked it up as nothing to worry about.

“Good luck in your meeting.” Waverly approached her, getting up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on the side of Nicole’s head. She smiled at the action, reciprocating the kiss and then made her way upstairs, readying her mind for film analysis.

The door to the film room was closed as she approached it, which again she found odd considering Nedley’s usual open-door policy, and knocked gently before entering. She heard Nedley invite her in, her cue to make her way through the door.

She’d expected to see Nedley sitting at the film table with some game footage cued up, but that wasn’t quite what she found. He was there was there, at the table, but he wasn’t alone. Across from him was Dolls, looking stuffier than ever, and Bunny Loblaw on Dolls’ right, wearing her usual “disgusted with everything” look.

Nicole felt her stomach drop. Her last interaction with Dolls was when he’d reprimanded her and Waverly for playing tag, and she hadn’t even so much as spoken to Bunny on the phone, never mind in person. She couldn’t imagine a scenario in which a meeting that involved the head coach, General Manager and team owner was a good one.

“Sit down, Nicole.” Bunny instructed, and Nicole swallowed thickly as she complied. “I assume you know why you’re here.”

 _No. Not really._ She thought to herself. _Should she?_

She was about to open her mouth when Nedley spoke up instead.

“I’d like to know why I’m here; why we’re all here.”

_Okay, so Nedley had no clue either._

Dolls shrugged his shoulders and eyed Bunny.

Apparently, the only person who knew why they were there was the unpleasant looking woman at the head of the table.

“Alright then, I was under the impression that you all knew, but no worries, I’ll explain—Peter!” The owner barked at the poor intern boy that Nicole had failed to notice when she entered the room. She couldn’t imagine any college credit that was worth working for such an insane bully of a woman.

Peter flipped on the projector on the table, connecting a laptop to it, and hurried over to pull down the screen to project some sort of video. Pressing play, Bunny glared at Nicole pointedly as a familiar video projected across the room.

_“Bad boy or ideal son-in-law?” “Oh, well it’s not an ideal son-in-law, but an ideal daughter-in-law.”_

Nicole registered her own voice, and the one belonging to Vance Kerr, and so she didn’t need to look at the screen to see what Bunny was showing. She knew that the team owner was a bitch (to put it nicely) and a psychopath, but she couldn’t think of why this video warranted a big meeting like this one.

“Now, care to explain Miss Haught?” Bunny prompted, cold and disgusted.

“I-I-I’m not—I was just answering a question.” She spluttered nervously, never being great in situations like these. (Not that she could say she’d ever been in a situation quite like this one).

“Mhm,” Bunny appeared to mull the answer over.

“Do I not have the right to answer questions now?” Nicole stood her ground.

“You do,” Bunny answered, “But you should know that certain answers bring along certain… _consequences._ ”

“Consequences? What kind of consequences?”

Whatever Bunny had in mind, it wasn’t going to be good. That much Nicole could tell from the way Bunny had spoken to her and looked at her like she was gum on the bottom of her shoe.

There was an awkward, tense silence in the room, everyone awaiting Bunny’s answer.

“Well, look I’m just gonna be blunt.” Dolls did his best to suppress a groan, giving Nicole the suspicion that he’d heard the woman say that one too many times before she said something off color. “I want her traded immediately.”

If this were a movie or TV show, this might’ve been the point where Nicole dramatically choked on the water she’d be drinking at that exact moment. But, unfortunately, this was real life, as proven in the horrified looks on both Dolls’ and Nedley’s faces. Neither of them seemed to be able to comprehend the bomb that Bunny had just dropped on them.

“I’m sorry, what?” Nicole was first to speak.

“You heard me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I kid?” Bunny stared straight into Nicole’s eyes. “Peter, do I look like I kid?”

Poor Peter looked like he was going to wet himself the way that Bunny had snapped her head around for the boy to agree with her.

“N-no, no ma’am.”

“Correct. So believe me, Miss Haught, when I say I am deadly serious.” The owner never once took her eyes off of Nicole as she addressed her. “Xavier, I expect you to get that done before the deadline.”

“Mrs. Loblaw, with all due respect, are you sure you’ve thought this through?” Dolls tried to reason with his boss, though there really wasn’t any use reasoning with someone like Bunny, was there?

“Are you saying I’m stupid, Mr. Dolls?”

“No. Of course not, I’m just saying that I don’t feel comfortable trading away one of our best players out of the blue, for no reason really.”

Nicole applauded his restraint. While his mouth said, “No of course not”, his face and body language said, “Yeah I do, you stupid clown”.

She had to remember that this woman hadn’t wanted her from the get-go. When she’d had that conversation with Nedley at the beginning of the season, he’d told her that he had to fight Bunny to even just pick her, that she’d wanted to trade the pick away.

“For no reason?” Bunny repeated, eyeing her GM with a maniacal chuckle. “No reason? I think I have fair enough reason.”

“And what would that be exactly?” Dolls probed, fiddling with the pen in his hand like he was waiting for another unfiltered comment.

“Well, I think that this one should tell me why she thinks I want this.” Bunny nodded over her shoulder toward Nicole.

“ _This one_ , has no idea why you want me out of here. I’ve done nothing wrong.” Nicole said, raising her voice slightly more than she’d intended to. “I’ve done nothing but contribute to this team.”

“Nothing wrong? Did we not all just watch the same video?”

At this point, Nicole was getting ready to stand up and do a little more than just tell the bigoted old woman off. She probably would’ve if not for Nedley putting a hand on her shoulder and giving her a warning look.

“Now hold on just a minute.” Nedley interjected. “Nicole may have her own pref—…well, that’s her own business, but it doesn’t interfere with her ability as a player so it shouldn’t be relevant here.”

Bunny looked taken aback at the outburst, almost appalled that anyone would have the audacity to come back at her.

“I cannot, and will not have someone who’s just a little too _different_ representing my team.” She said snobbishly, turning up her nose and crossing her arms.

“I’ll show you different,” Nicole muttered under her breath, only loud enough for Nedley to hear her. (She felt a small sense of victory as she saw the Sheriff crack a small smile from underneath his mustache).

“Bunny, look. I can’t justify making this trade just because you have a difference of opinion.” Dolls explained, stone-faced and even toned. It appeared to have some effect on the woman, who uncrossed her arms and loosened ever so slightly in her chair. “Besides, you can’t deny the value that Haught has to this team.”

“I’d rather have that social miscreant Wynonna Earp on this team than _this one_. She’d be a hometown hero, and she’s one tough bitch.”

Nicole scoffed, knowing just how much of a kick Wynonna would be getting out of this interaction if she’d been here. Dolls simply pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed ahead in the conversation.

“Be that as it may, Wynonna Earp is not an asset I, nor any other team can provide you with.” He began, his words having some magic taming power on the crotchety bitch seated across from Nicole. “I’m telling you, if you want this team to win a championship, you cannot make a demand like this. Trading away a top performer in the middle of a team’s hot streak will be detrimental to morale. If you want wins, the best move is not to make any move.”

Bunny rolled her eyes, re-crossed her arms and bit the inside of her cheek, making her look like a petulant child on the verge of throwing a tantrum.

“Fine.” She huffed after a moment, now looking specifically at the head coach. “But I want her benched until further notice.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” He snapped.

“Because I said so.” She offered with no explanation.

“That’s not a valid reason.”

“If you want me to say it, I’ll say it. I don’t want her out there, representing my team after she besmirched the reputation of this team by going out and flaunting her _alternative_ lifestyle.”

“Again, _I’ll_ say it,” Nicole butt in, unable to sit idly by and bite her tongue any longer, “I don’t know if you know this but gay marriage has been legal for well over a decade now, gay people exist and it’s not like were some mythical creatures—we’re human beings who are just as capable as anyone else. Welcome to the 21st Century.”

“And you should _see_ Purgatory Pride, the fire department paints the trucks rainbow and it’s like a big, fun party—”

“—Shut it, Peter.” Bunny snapped, irritated at the intern who’d spoken up. Nicole bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a laugh.

She saw Dolls pull Nedley aside and whisper something in his ear. Nedley appeared to argue with him for a moment before finally nodding in agreement. When they’d returned their attention to the table, Dolls cleared his throat to catch Bunny’s attention.

“Miss Haught, you will be benched next game,” He declared. Nicole was about to open her mouth, but Dolls gave her a warning look to shut it. “But that is the furthest extent that this conversation will go.”

Bunny huffed, but looked as content as she was going to get and abruptly dismissed herself from the table, glaring at Nicole and muttering a _“Disgusting”_ in the redhead’s direction as she exited the room, Peter the intern following her nervously, kind of like a lost puppy.

Once the team owner had been out of earshot, Nicole stood up, outraged.

“What the hell am I being benched for?”

“I’d appreciate you not taking that tone.” The GM scolded. “I was able to talk Bunny down from trading you or indefinitely benching you, but I do need to keep her under control, so this is the compromise.”

“This is such bullshit, and you know it,” she spat, absolutely fuming. “Not to mention some sort of illegal. I’m pretty sure it’s discrimination to bench me for being gay.”

“Then don’t think of it as being benched for that, consider it a consequence for saying something that violates team media conduct, something that could’ve endangered the success of the team.”

“No, I don’t think I will. How can you sit here and justify that? My personal life has nothing to do with the team.”

“Then maybe you should watch what you say to reporters, especially on camera.” 

She found it ironic that Bunny had all the power in the world to say whatever offensive thing she wanted, but she had to keep her mouth shut about something that _shouldn't_ be offensive in the slightest.

“Nicole, it’ll go down as a healthy scratch on the roster card. No one needs to know why.” Nedley added, trying to reason with her.

“But I know why. You both know why. And it’s a pretty fucked up reason if you ask me.”

“I understand, but it’s just the way things work. This is a business, and appearances are everything. Admitting to something that some may consider taboo just simply isn’t good for the image of the team.” Dolls explained, and the comments had pushed her over the edge.

“I’m sorry, did I hit my head and wake up in Patriarchal _Bullshit_ Land?” She spat, pushing out her seat to remove herself from the table.

“It’s called a long game, Nicole.” Nedley placed his hand on her shoulder again. “Do this, take your lumps and sit out the next game to appease that old bag, and then we’ll all move on from this unsavory scenario.”

“Yeah whatever,” She huffed as she rolled her eyes, making her way to the door and slamming it behind her.

\---

**CEWHL** **@CEWHL**

Purgatory aims to extend win streak to franchise record 10 games as Bathurst rolls into town. Puck drop 7:30 PM MST. (TV: CBC, GRTV, RDS, CEWHLN)

_7 Feb—3:30 PM MST_

\---

**Vance Kerr** **@VKerr_CEWHLN**

SOMETHING TO READ INTO?: Mumblings around the Blue Devils camp saying that Nicole Haught will be a healthy scratch for tonight’s game against Bathurst. Is this just a day off for the star rookie, or is there trouble in the waters for Purgatory?

_7 Feb—3:45 PM MST_

\---

**Vance Kerr** **@VKerr_CEWHLN**

Just getting an initial look at warmups today, looks like rookie Jamie Paulsen is in; no sign of Nicole Haught

_7 Feb—6:35 PM MST_

\---

**TSN** **@TSN_Sports**

No word from Blue Devils staff on speculations surrounding Nicole Haught’s status for tonight’s game; GM Xavier Dolls and Training staff refuse to comment on if it is injury related or something else

_7 Feb—6:40 PM MST_

\---

**PURGATORY SPORTS REPORT** **@JeremyC_PG**

CONFIRMED: Nicole Haught ruled a healthy scratch and will not play in tonight’s @bluedevilsCEWHL game hosting @powerCEWHL

_7 Feb—6:45 PM MST_

\---

Nicole found herself a seat in the private player box to watch the game and to serve her benching. She was still beyond furious at the interaction that had gone down yesterday, even after Waverly had talked her down about it.

Her girlfriend did agree that it was a little more than ridiculous that Nicole had to face this, but was good at convincing her to keep a level head and to not overreact. As long as it was an isolated incident, there was no need to go ruffle any feathers while things were going well. Nicole was surprised that a proclaimed feminist such as her girlfriend was essentially telling her to let this slide, but in the long run, she guessed that it would be for the best.

Following her conversation with Waverly, she’d sent Dolls and Nedley an email apologizing for the way she left the meeting, but omitting an apology for what she had said or how she felt. She needed everyone to know that while she was playing nice for now, she was not going to take something this serious lightly.

Presently, Nicole was waiting for puck drop after the anthem, scanning the roster sheet and line schematics that all the players not dressed for the game got. Nedley hadn’t shuffled the lines around all that much, from what she saw. Jenna and Shae had been reunited with Saunders as their center, Smith had been bumped up to center the second line, MacKinnon slid up to center the third, and Jamie had been dressed in Nicole’s place, playing alongside Vic and Shan on the fourth.

She sighed as she watched the puck drop to start the game, trying her best to clear her mind of the circumstances so that she could cheer on the team. The team had been playing well, but with each game that it had accumulated, the win streak proved to be harder to maintain. They’d only managed to win the last game 1-0 in a shootout, and Bathurst was just as challenging an opponent. She wished she could be out there to help, but figured sulking wouldn’t do anything but make things worse.

During the first intermission, her phone buzzed in the pocket of her jacket, and she pulled it out to check it, wondering if it would be one of the seemingly million emails she’d been receiving as the season went on. This time, it hadn’t been an email, but a Snapchat from Wynonna.

Opening it, she saw a photo of her best friend, holding a poster with Nicole’s Blue Devils headshot that had been shopped to look like a mugshot with the words “FREE HAUGHT” in bold black letters. (The snap had been captioned “Free my girl Haught, she ain’t do nothing wrong”).

She rolled her eyes, but snapped Wynonna back to humor her. How on earth Wynonna had managed to make that with her limited knowledge of photoshop or in the limited time between yesterday afternoon and tonight, Nicole had no clue, but she had to admit that it was amusing.

Turning focus back to the start of the second period, she watched a heated battle taking place on the ice. Both teams had yet to score, and it was more of a battle in the neutral zone than the fast-paced, skilled game the Devils had been playing as of late.

Jamie won a scrum along the boards, poking the puck out of the skates of one of the Bathurst forwards. Finning picked up the loose puck and found Powers streaking down the opposite wing, essentially wide open. Vic was in alone on goal, staring down the goaltender and Nicole could see her trying to figure out a move to put on. The thought went on a second too long, and she found herself too close to goal, with no option other than to just shoot the puck. The shot wasn’t great, right into the goalie’s glove hand, but it did handcuff the opposite netminder and she coughed up a rebound, the puck lying unattended in the blue paint. Angelique, the trailing defenseman, crashed the net hard and just barely won the footrace to push it across the goal line.

The horn blared and the crowd jumped to its feet. When Nicole did so, she made eye contact with Bunny, who was sitting in the private box adjacent to the players. The woman fixed her with a smug glare, as if to tell her that the team didn’t need her to win games. She turned her head away, and as she sat down, Nicole was struck with the horrible thought that if the Devils did win this game, that Bunny would again try to get Dolls to trade her. (She shook it aside after a moment, knowing that Dolls at least had half a brain in his head and, despite this scenario, wouldn't do anything unless there was real reason to). 

_“BLUE DEVILSSS GOAL! Her fifth of the season, scored by number three, Angelique Meunier! Assisted by number eleven, Victoria Powers and number seventy-two, Shannon Finning!”_

The crowd stayed in the game, a newfound energy coming as a result of the lead, a lead they carried into the third period. However, whatever energy the team had left seemed to have disappeared in the intermission. While the Devils came out flat, the Power came out flying. They’d not only erased the Purgatory lead within the first five minutes, but had taken the lead before the midway point of the period.

Now was a time that Nicole wished she could’ve been out there more than any other point in the night. Crunch time had slowly become her favorite time as she grew more comfortable and confident in her game. Even though she couldn’t play, Nicole was on the edge of her seat, watching tensely as her teammates fought to get back into the game. With about a minute left, Miller skated off to the bench, allowing for an extra attacker to come on.

Skating six against five, the Devils did all they could to net the tying goal, but any hopes of evening the score were dashed when the puck broke out of the attacking zone and the Bathurst forward neatly deposited it into the open goal.

As final horn sounded, ending a 3-1 loss for the Blue Devils and subsequently their win streak, Nicole exited the box and headed down to the tunnel to catch up with the team for post-game briefing.

Walking down from the seating area, she passed the media set up and stopped when she heard her name, seeing three or four different reporters flocking toward her.

“Nicole Haught!” The guy from TSN called, pushing his way to the front of the pack of reporters. “Why didn’t you play tonight?”

She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, deciding to see what it was rather than answering the question.

**Dolls: Under NO circumstances are you to talk to the press tonight. Understood?**

_Oh thank God_ , she thought to herself, not wanting to deal with the questions.

“Sorry guys, no comment.” She said, walking purposefully down to the locker room toward her dejected teammates following the loss.

\---

** TSN Sports: Questions Swirling as Blue Devils Streak is Snapped **

**WEDNESDAY FEB 8TH—Well,** _**there you have it folks, the Purgatory Blue Devils have finally been taken down. Goals by Sofie Maruska, Nina Bonet, and Jade Caldwell lifted the Bathurst Power to victory in Purgatory on Tuesday night. After the head-scratching decision to list rising star Nicole Haught as a healthy scratch, the Blue Devils appeared to struggle to play the complete style of game that had brought them such success. Haught refused to comment on why the decision was made, leading many to suspect that there’s more to this situation than an injury or a day of rest. Adding to the suspicion, team owner Bunny Loblaw was very vocal following the loss, saying that Haught “knows what she did, and had to face the consequences.” Loblaw refused further elaboration of that comment. General Manager Xavier Dolls and Head Coach Randy Nedley were just as vague in their conference, saying that Haught has served her time, but is expected to rejoin the lineup for the next game.** _

_**There may be a lot of questions circling the minds of all the fans, but it’s safe to say that it can be summed up in one: What exactly is going on in the Blue Devils Organization?** _


	14. Western Conference Playoffs Round One: Part One

Waverly had found herself prouder of her girlfriend than any other single person in her life. She admired the grace the redhead had shown in her handling of her interaction with upper management. Seeing Nicole’s enraged state at the woman, and furthermore at Dolls for trying to sweep it under the rug for the sake of appearances, Waverly knew that she’d have to be the calming presence. She’d been able to talk Nicole down and convince her to play the so called “long game” that Nedley had mentioned, and let her game do the talking.

She knew it was a little hypocritical to tell Nicole to just essentially let it slide, considering that if she’d been in those shoes, she probably would’ve went on some social justice campaign to expose Bunny and the management for discrimination. In the long run, however, she knew that both of them knew that it wouldn’t cause anything but a distraction and hurt the team.

She was proud of the way Nicole held her head high and dodged the nosy questions from reporters trying to figure out some juicy gossip from within the team, handling mostly everything that came her way with maturity and professionalism. (When Waverly told her how proud she was of her maturity, Nicole shrugged and told her she liked the way it infuriated Bunny). The only time she’d seen Nicole get negative was when she’d mentioned the way Shae looked at her angrily, blaming her for their loss against Bathurst. Waverly wondered if Shae had been let in on why Nicole was benched, and whether or not knowing the truth would’ve changed her attitude. Her girlfriend was quick to assure her that knowing the truth would’ve only made Shae madder, before going into details of their complicated relationship.

In her first game back from benching, Nicole had gone out and scored two goals, including the game winner in a 2-1 win against the Rangers, much to the chagrin of the captain (who hadn’t put up a single point for then the fourth game in a row). But Waverly’s pride came to grow even further just two games later when Nicole set up Shae for a goal, simultaneously scoring her 72nd point and breaking the rookie points record that had been standing for over a decade.

She’d settled on the fact that there was never going to be a ceiling for how proud she could be of Nicole when Nicole scored her 33rd goal of the season, breaking the rookie record set by Shae just five years ago. Her girlfriend had been humble in the interviews she was bombarded with following the achievement, but had allowed Wynonna to openly make a big deal of it when their small friend group had gone out to Shorty’s after the game to celebrate.

But beyond the game and the success, Waverly found herself proudest to call the redhead her girlfriend not because she was _Nicole Haught, hockey phenom_ , but because she was simply _Nicole_. It was Nicole outside of the hockey environment that had quickly become her favorite version of the woman. Soft and tender and caring, dorky at times and a little too stubborn for her own good when it came to bickering with Wynonna. A girl who’d been strong-willed, and though she projected all the confidence in the world to the public, showed a vulnerability to Waverly that made her so much more appealing. She loved her mind and the way she was able to shut off hockey when it was their time to just ­ _be_ together, even though that time had been scant whilst the season was in full swing.

(Waverly had to chastise Wynonna for teasing Nicole, calling her “whipped”, but did have to admit that her sister did have a point. She recalls fondly the night she just _couldn’t_ get to sleep, the homestead being especially cold and her four blankets just not cutting it. She hadn’t meant to do anything but complain to Nicole, but the redhead showed up at her door, with an extra blanket in hand and wound up spending the night being her bonus blanket).

Presently, Waverly found herself enamored by the way Nicole’s eyebrows knitted together in concentration, eyes darting between a spreadsheet and the TV in the film room. The Devils had finished their regular season yesterday, setting a league record in points with a 61-17-4 final record for 126 total points, and were awaiting finals scores for the last remaining seeds in the playoffs. They would be the first seed, but there was a log jam between four or five teams that were all playing today that could determine the matchups.

The small gathering they’d planned to watch the games and the score reports had grown from just her, Nicole and Wynonna to now include Powers and Finning (who, coming to think of it, Waverly had never seen separated from each other), Doc (who’d become increasingly attached to Wynonna’s hip after the details of their involvement had become official in Toronto), Rosita and Kate (who’d been in the building anyway), Robin (who’d felt bad for intruding and brought along pizza) and Jeremy (who’d framed it as research into his playoff piece for the Devils, but Waverly really knew it was because Robin was there).

The spreadsheets had been Waverly’s idea. She’d made them to keep track of what scenarios of scores would generate what playoff matchups. Wynonna had rolled her eyes and called her a nerd, but when Doc and the others took particular interest into seeing who the Devils could possibly be playing, she was quick to change her tune.

“Okay hold on hold on,” Powers interjected into the room, holding her phone to read a new score alert. The rest of the occupants quieted down, turning attention to the winger. “Kelowna just scored to tie it up in Regina.”

“So where does that leave us now?” Rosita asked, chewing on the end of a pencil.

“If these scores hold, and Kelowna wins, then we get them, and Edmonton plays Moose Jaw…I think? Right?” Finning asked, squinting at the sheet in front of her.

“No. No.” Nicole interjected. “If Kelowna wins, then we’ll get them but Edmonton would play Calgary, unless they…” she trailed off, getting a new notification, “Wait, Calgary just scored, which…” she paused to scan through her own sheet, “…changes nothing.”

“Who do we wanna play?” Robin asked.

The teams up in the air currently were Prince Albert, Moose Jaw, Brandon, Kelowna and Calgary, and the Devils had strong opinions and cases for and against matching up against each.

“Ideally, Kelowna, but Moose Jaw and Prince Albert would need to lose for that to happen.” Powers started, before going into specifics of regular season matchups and advantages that the Devils held.

“See, I wouldn’t mind playing PA.” Nicole said.

“Yeah, that’s just because you have that goalie’s number, Red.” Finning quipped. “The rest of us couldn’t do shit against them.”

Nicole just shrugged her shoulders, and the group turned their attention back to the TV. The final scores had started to roll in, and the only game left up in the air was the Moose Jaw-Brandon game, which had gone to overtime.

“Okay, Kelowna’s out because of their loss to the Royals. Calgary and Prince Albert both won their games, so it’s down to the winner of this one.” Rosita said after double checking the spreadsheet.

“We’re gonna end up playing whoever loses the Bobcats game.” Waverly stated matter-of-factly, knowing that the two teams in question had come in tied at 97 points, and the winner in OT would earn themselves the point that put them in the seed higher than the other.

“So we get stuck with Satan himself, or the _Swamp Witch_?” Said Kate in reference to the other teams’ coaches.

“It would appear that way, yes.” Waverly registered Doc’s voice over the chorus of shouts and gasps from the group watching the game on the television. And then, almost immediately, the game-winning goal was scored and the field was set.

 _“Now with the final game of the regular season wrapped up, let’s take a look at the final standings,”_ Came the voice of the CEWHL Network analyst, showing a graphic on the screen, starting with the Eastern Conference divisions: 

**_ Maritime Division _ **

_St. John’s Ice Dogs (47-29-6, 100 PTS)_

_Brampton Thunder (47-30-5, 99 PTS)_

_Bathurst Power (45-28-9, 99 PTS)_

_Charlottetown Storm (43-32-7, 93 PTS)_

_Halifax Warriors (36-64-9, 84 PTS)_

_Sydney Challengers (37-36-9, 83 PTS)_

**_ Ontario/Quebec Division _ **

_Trois-Rivieres Navagatrices (50-25-7, 107 PTS)_

_Sherbrooke Black Widows (46-27-9,101 PTS)_

_Moncton Cougars (39-35-8, 86 PTS)_

_Stratford Swans (35-36-11,81 PTS)_

_Toronto Triumph (35-37-10, 80 PTS)_

_Mississauga Mayhem (35-37-9, 79 PTS)_

_Quebec Capitales (31-42-9, 71 PTS)_

_“Charlottetown has now made the playoffs for the first time in six years, while Toronto has missed the playoffs for the first time in its history. Let’s take a look at the Eastern Conference first round matchups: Number one seeded Trois-Rivieres will take on Summerside; Sherbrooke is poised to battle with the seventh seeded Cougars; we can surely expect a good one between St. John’s and Charlottetown; and rounding out the field in the 4v5 matchup are Brampton and Bathurst.”_

The others sat impatiently around (and on) the table in the room, not at all interested in Eastern Conference standings and matchups. They’d all known what the Western Conference matchups were, but seeing it on TV was a confirmation that everyone had wanted to see.

_“Moving forward in our historic season, let’s take a look at what we’re dealing with in the West.”_

He again put up the graphic for the division standings in the Western Conference:

**_ Manitoba/Saskatchewan Division _ **

_Peg City Pirates (48-26-8, 104 PTS)_

_Steinbach Huskies (48-27-7, 103 PTS)_

_Prince Albert Rangers (46-28-8, 100 PTS)_

_Moose Jaw Maroons (44-26-12, 100 PTS)_

_Brandon Bobcats (47-31-4, 98 PTS)_

_Regina Royals (37-37-8, 82 PTS)_

_Saskatoon Rush (32-36-14, 78 PTS)_

**_ BC/Alberta Division _ **

_Purgatory Blue Devils (61-17-4, 126 PTS)_

_Edmonton Drillers (49-24-9, 107 PTS)_

_Calgary Outlaws (46-29-7, 99 PTS)_

_Kelowna Grizzlies (44-30-8, 96 PTS)_

_Victoria Tigers (36-32-14, 86 PTS)_

_Red Deer Rampage (32-40-10, 74 PTS)_

_Lethbridge Eagles (29-47-6, 64 PTS)_

_“Purgatory completes a miraculous, albeit pretty much impossible, turnaround going from record worst to record first in just a single season.”_ The room erupted in whoops and hollers, applauding the team on a season well played, Powers and Finning taking bows at the front of the room. _“A powerhouse Western Conference has finished in a tight race, but we now have the official matchups: those surging Blue Devils hold down home ice advantage for their whole playoff run but will take on the always tough Brandon Bobcats; we’ll have the battle of Alberta reignited as number two Edmonton will take on number seven Calgary; Winnipeg will have playoff hockey for the eighth consecutive season, as the Pirates take on sixth-ranked Moose Jaw; and the final matchup in the West belongs to number four Steinbach and number five Prince Albert.”_

“Swamp Witch it is then.” Kate chuckled, the rest of the room acknowledging the fact.

Margo Jean Clanton was as savage and conniving as coaches came. Since taking the helm, the Bobcats had never failed to win their first round series, despite never being favored to win. They’d pulled out so many first-round upsets that people around the league had suspected some sort of witchcraft or supernatural powers had to be at work. No one can exactly pinpoint when they started calling the coach the Swamp Witch, but it had stuck, and it was fitting. An ever-unpleasant woman, her teams played with the same nastiness that she exuded, and their games were never pretty, but they’d always gotten the job done somehow.

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us then.” Nicole said, and Waverly couldn’t help but smile at the fact that she was about to say just that.

\---

**Game 1: Wednesday, April 10—Brandon @ Purgatory**

Waverly found herself out of her normal position before games—down in the team tunnel instead of in between the benches. Nedley had been late in getting her the lineup card for the Devils, and she’d needed to track the coach down to get it before the game started. In her search, she’d found herself accidentally walking into a group of the Devils warming up by playing with a soccer ball, apologizing sheepishly as she had caused them to drop the ball.

She’d found it a strange place, the players tunnel, though she guessed all the strange pre-game superstitions and routines were working if it had gotten the team to the playoffs. She passed a door that had done nothing to conceal the sounds of an AC/DC song blaring in the room behind it, and then passed the locker room door to hear off-key singing (screaming) to a Rihanna song that was most likely Carlson and Harris based on what Nicole had told her about the team. She passed the training room door to see a few players getting taped and wrapped by the training staff before reaching a bit of a clearing to see Shae working on stickhandling with a golf ball and Miller throwing a couple of rubber balls against the wall for hand-eye coordination.

Waverly had walked by one more doorway, still not finding Nedley, but doubled back when she realized she’d seen a flash of red hair. Nicole had had on a pair of headphones, playing the pregame playlist that Waverly still hadn’t found herself privy to. (Nicole had sworn that it was just standard, “totally hardcore” songs that got her game ready, but Finning had let it slip that there were more than a couple Fifth Harmony and One Direction songs on the list).

Nicole appeared to be oblivious to Waverly’s presence, judging by the way that she continued with her laser focused work, taking a torch to the blade of her stick, her tongue poking ever so slightly out of the corner of her mouth in her concentration. Waverly was sure she was the definition of _heart eyes_ at the moment taking in the sight of her girlfriend, but couldn’t bring herself to see that as a bad thing.

“I can see why they call you Red Hot now,” she quipped, knocking on the door in an attempt to get Nicole’s attention.

She seemed to have noticed, snapping her head up to see the intruder. Waverly could’ve melted at the sight of the smile that spread across Nicole’s face as she realized who was there. She extinguished the torch and pulled the headphones down to hang around her neck.

“Hey cutie, what’re you doing down here?”

“Looking for Nedley. I need the roster card.” She explained. “But I seem to have stumbled into some sort of parallel universe—you know it never occurred to me that I’ve never seen what goes on behind the scenes before games.”

“Yeah, a lot going on down here,” Nicole said with a soft chuckle. “If you’re looking for Sheriff, he’s down in the office.”

Waverly nodded, but wanted to enjoy Nicole’s company just a little longer, especially as the taller girl had closed the gap between them to steal a quick peck on the lips.

“Ready for the game? Excited?”

“More like terrified.”

“ _Breaking News_ ,” she started dramatically, “ _Hot shot Nicole Haught gets nervous just like rest of us.”_

“Guilty.” She said as she held her hands up.

“Seriously though, pregame jitters or something more?” Waverly asked with sincerity.

“It’s just a lot of pressure,” she admitted with a hint of a sigh. “This is the first time most of us are playing in a playoff game, and we’ve got a lot of expectations. Not to mention Bunny’s still looking for any reason to ship me out of here and I can tell it’s rubbing Shae the wrong way that I ended up with more points than her this season.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” Waverly dismissed, “especially considering she scored forty-three goals this year, and she’s not too keen on assists anyway.”

Waverly had known the stats well, considering she’d been in charge of marking most of them down. When the league leaders had officially come out, both Shae and Nicole had finished in the top five, but Nicole had finished slightly higher on the strength of her 36 goals and 55 assists compared to Shae’s 43 and 43 performance.

“I know that, but you know it’s more too.” Nicole said with a half-pout. Waverly still didn’t quite understand Shae’s petty vendetta, but chose to ignore it as long as her girlfriend didn’t seem to be too upset by it.

“Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be fine once you get out there and get a couple shifts out of the way.”

“Mhm, I’m sure I will, but…” Nicole trailed off, getting a mischievous look in her eye, “maybe you could leave me with a little good luck charm before you go find Nedley?”

Who was Waverly to deny Nicole anything really? She closed the gap between them yet again, capturing her girlfriend’s lips eagerly fulfilling the hockey player’s request.

“Okay, not that I don’t love that,” Nicole said with a soft squeeze of Waverly’s ass, “but now I gotta finish getting ready, and you gotta track down the Sherriff.”

\---

Waverly grumbled at the sound of the radio commentary playing next to her on the scorekeeper’s bench. Because it was the playoffs, both teams had the right to their own individual scorekeepers at the games. Brandon’s scorekeeper was a greased-up muscle-head named _Randy_ who unfortunately reminded her way too much of Champ for her liking.

Randy had decided it best to listen to _Country Joe and Wingnut’s_ play-by-play (of the game he was currently at, mind you) on some Manitoba radio station. There was nothing more that she despised in the moment than listening to radio DJs talk smack about how _badly_ the Devils had been playing.

Waiting for the third period to start, the Devils were in danger of being run out of their own building, being down 4-0, though it probably should’ve been more. They’d been outhustled and heavily out hit; what the Bobcats lacked in skill and finesse (which was a lot), they made up for in brute force.

_“…And Joe, what about that Jolene DiMoni? She’s been everywhere tonight, hasn’t she?”_

_“She’s been everything the Cats could’ve asked for and then some. Skating: check; physicality: check; intimidation factor: check, check and check.”_

Waverly made a conscious effort to tune out the commentary as the teams retook the ice, the Devils looking shellshocked. Nedley no doubt had torn into them in the intermission. He’d benched the top line to start the period, opting to send out the third liners who had been playing marginally better than the other three lines the Devils had thrown out there.

Nicole’s line didn’t hit the ice until a few minutes later, and it looked like they’d had a very clear gameplan, one that hadn’t really been their brand all season. Waverly watched Shae take a girl to the boards and pin her there in a scrum rather than peel off for a breakout pass, and then watched Jenna give more than a little shove to a player hot on her tail once Carlson had dumped the puck into the attacking zone. It was clear that _be more physical_ was the message in the locker room from Nedley, and that included _everyone_.

Nicole, apparently feeling left out, had a girl lined up for a big hit along the boards and…

 _“Ooh, swing and a miss for Haught,”_ the voice Waverly recognized as _Wingnut_ snickered as she cringed, watching Nicole slam herself into the boards, missing the hit completely as the Bobcats’ player moved out of the way at the last second.

(Within seconds she’d gotten a text message from her sister.

**Wynonna: your girlfriend’s a fucking idiot** **😂😂**

**Wynonna: she’s been hit so many times you’d think she’d know a thing or two about actually hitting someone** ).

Waverly had to give props to her girlfriend for trying, but she did look a little silly out there, now having to pick herself up from the ice and skate to the bench for a line change.

The virtual silence in the arena that came with the Devils performing so poorly made the third period practically drag on. The Bobcats looked content to just defend their lead, not really putting any pressure on goal, playing the body anytime they saw the opportunity. Waverly knew Doc, Rosita and Kate had a long night ahead with all of the Devils most definitely needing ice baths after this game.

During a break in play, Waverly saw Nedley lean over Nicole’s shoulder, giving her some sort of instructions before sending the first line onto the ice. Watching Nicole step up to the faceoff dot, Waverly saw her girlfriend have her stick not so subtly slashed by the opposing center followed by a uncharacteristically heated encounter between the two. The referee ejected the Bobcats’ player from the draw, a winger taking her place, but she and Nicole were still having words.

Waverly hadn’t really seen Nicole visibly agitated on the ice, knowing that she’d rather let her game do the talking. However, in this moment, it looked like Nicole could’ve killed that centerman.

Nicole won the faceoff and the Devils moved the puck through the neutral zone to attack, the clock now showing just under five minutes remaining. Waverly could sense trouble brewing when the center who Nicole had been barking at sought her out along the boards, taking a whack at her shinnies and tripping her up when she tried to skate away.

The referee’s arm shot in the air signaling a delayed penalty for tripping, but as Nicole got to her feet, she threw down her gloves, the offending Bobcats player doing the same. Nicole was the first to engage the fight, tugging on her opponent’s jersey, throwing the first punch and then another. As the two danced, Waverly caught sight of the Bobcats’ player’s jersey—a number 64 sweater with the name _DiMoni_ stitched onto the back. She had looked a little caught off guard by the quick succession of punches, but quickly regained her bearings, throwing a big right hook of her own that caught Nicole square in the face.

Waverly probably should’ve been cringing, or worrying about Nicole’s safety, but there was something so satisfying and just inappropriately _sexy_ about the look of primal rage on her girlfriend’s face as she landed one haymaker and then another. She’d made quick work of the fight, the last punch—a uppercut right to the jaw, sending her opponent to the ice.

 _Wow, that was hot,_ was all Waverly could think as she watched Nicole standing over the Bobcats player with a smug look on her face just before the referees escorted her to the penalty box, Nedley giving her a thumbs up from the bench.

Waverly struggled to bring herself to concentrate after all of that, because nothing, not even Shae scoring on the Power Play with three and a half minutes left to make it a little more respectable, would be more intriguing or worth thinking of than how hot Nicole was throwing those hands around.

**\---**

**Game 2: Friday, April 12—Brandon @ Purgatory (BDN leads series 1-0)**

After the drubbing on Wednesday night, the Devils looked much better going into Game 2. But that didn’t quite mean they’d figured everything out, especially scoring. The crowd had gotten restless waiting for a deciding goal nearing the end of the first overtime period tied at 1-1, so Waverly wasn’t sure what you could call them as they were nearly done with a third one.

It hadn’t been for lack of trying, on either end, considering there’d been just about 90 shots on goal between the two teams. The marathon game was nearing a league record, and easily turning into a playoff classic. The game had gotten less physical as it had gone on, the players visibly showing their fatigue from playing nearly an extra sixty minutes. 

The crowd got to its feet with seconds left, Hansen missing ending the game for the Devils by literal centimeters as the puck ricocheted off of the post and into the corner, the horn blaring to end the third overtime a moment later.

Waverly stood up as the teams vacated the ice, needing to stretch her legs and in an attempt to keep herself awake. Game days in general were long ones filled with responsibilities; playoff games were even longer with even more responsibilities, but today was outside the realm of anything Waverly had experienced in her life.

She exited the scorekeeper’s bench to fill her water bottle, pushing her way through fans who were far too drunk (the overtime giving them more time for more beers) and definitely should’ve been cut off two overtimes ago. She knew that if the Devils couldn’t manage to win this game that there was a massive chance of a full-blown riot in the building judging by the sheer volume of alcohol consumed tonight.

She returned to her seat to find Randy asleep at the table, snoring with his mouth open. Waverly rolled her eyes at the unprofessionalism. She gently nudged him on the shoulder to try to wake him up, which did work, but resulted in him jerking awake and swinging his arm across the table, spilling his giant sugary soda all over the scorer’s table.

Waverly sprung into action to try to save the scoresheets, but wasn’t quick enough and the papers were unsalvageable. She groaned angrily, knowing she’d have to go get more and transfer the stats onto a clean sheet.

“Hey! What the hell was that for?” Randy yelled, still disoriented from his brief nap, but then realized the mess on the table. “Woah. That’s not good.”

“Yeah, no shit Randy.” She snipped.

“No need to get all bitchy.” He said before mumbling under his breath, “This is why they shouldn’t let women in sports.”

Waverly wasn’t sure whether to be angry or to laugh. He did realize that this was a whole ass women’s professional league, right?

Normally, she would’ve dwelt on that fact, maybe even just laugh dryly, and move on, but with tonight going the way it was, she let anger win out.

“Listen up, _Randy_. I know you don’t know me, but most of the people around her know me as the _Nicest Person in Purgatory_. Like legitimately, there was a vote, I have a sash.” She said sternly, but not over-aggressive. “But I won’t hesitate to kick your ass if you try to make another comment like that in front of me again. Now, I’m gonna go get more scoresheets and redo the stats and you’re gonna clean this mess up, understood?”

“Y-yes ma’am.”

\---

The fourth overtime went on without incident, the players truly showing fatigue in their play, and especially in their decision making. It was a rare sight in this period to see three or four consecutive passes connect without being tipped or turned over completely. Players were slow to get up from hits, but quick to get to the bench, shifts usually consisting of a trip up the ice, back down and then straight off.

The fans weren’t fairing any better, now waiting for the game’s eighth total period to start. As the clock flipped over past midnight, the fans who’d remained (which was surprisingly most of them), were just about dead on their feet, wishing and hoping for something, _anything_ to happen. At this point everyone was just hoping somebody would score, and it didn’t quite matter who did.

Waverly had caught herself on re-transcribing the multitude of stats from the game, thankful that the soda hadn’t destroyed everything. She was sure that as tired as she was, it was nothing compared to the players on the ice, doing the work.

Waverly caught a glimpse of Nicole at the bench just as the period was starting, seeing the absolute exhaustion painted on her face (a dopey grin graced her lips as she caught Waverly staring at her). Looking around at the rest of the Devils and over to the Bobcats’ bench, none of them looked much better. Forget wanting it more, that had passed three overtimes ago, this game was going to come down to whatever team was the most conditioned and could physically stay moving for the longest amount of time.

The Devils’ top line took the ice to start OT number five. If this period lasted longer than five minutes, it would become the longest game in league history.

The Bobcats center lined up across from Nicole on the faceoff wore a jersey with the last name _Clanton_ on it. Beyond that DiMoni bitch from game one, Waverly had really started to hate this _Clanton, Cleo_ who most definitely had to be the coach’s daughter. The two of them had seemed to follow Nicole around the ice, practically stalking and harassing her over the last two games. Waverly got Jolene’s problem, feeling slighted for getting her shit rocked in the fight at the end of game one, but she couldn’t quite understand Cleo’s deal.

Cleo won the puck back pretty easily and started their attack into the offensive zone. The Bobcats moved the puck around for a moment, but took the first available shot, a long slapshot from the blue line that Miller saw the whole way. _Piece of cake,_ Waverly thought to herself as the netminder froze the puck for fresh legs to come on.

The fans, if possible, grew more restless seeing shots that never had any real chance of going in. Waverly knew that any shot was a good one at this point, especially with tired goalies, but even she had to admit it was a little more than boring to see shots going straight into the chest or trapper every single time.

The record for the longest game in league history came, and then five more minutes passed, still without the game-winning goal being scored. Somewhere around the twelve-minute mark of the period, Waverly head Randy grumble next to her about just giving the game to the team with the most shots on goal, which would’ve been the Bobcats, by a considerable margin.

Nicole’s line took the ice with 7:27 remaining with a faceoff in the offensive zone on the goalie’s right side. Nicole had pulled Shae aside and was whispering something into her ear, a plan or a play of sorts, no doubt. Instead of Nicole taking the faceoff, the captain did, and as the puck was dropped, she didn’t try to win it back or even shield off the opposite center. Instead, Shae shot the puck straight off the faceoff, ricocheting off of the goalie’s left pad. Nicole had boxed out the winger on the faceoff and beat her to the rebound, finding the puck before anyone else, finally, _mercifully_ ending the game.

The Devils flew off the bench toward Nicole, elated to have come out on top in this marathon, and while Waverly was beyond overjoyed at the outcome, her attention was caught by the Swamp Witch standing up on the bench with her arms crossed and a menacing look on her face.

Well that certainly couldn’t be good, could it?

**\---**

Waverly and Wynonna practically sprinted through their postgame responsibilities, just really wanting to get the hell home. With the arena now completely cleared out, the pair were getting ready to lock up, just waiting for Nicole to leave the locker room so that they could leave. They’d planned to go to Shorty’s with Doc and Robin and Jeremy after the game, but a 7 pm game should’ve ended at 9:30, 10:00 the latest, yet the game had ended at a quarter to one, and they were nearing two am when Nicole entered the lobby, dragging her feet dramatically.

“Something tells me you’re gonna be public enemy number one back in Brandon.” Wynonna quipped, leading the group toward the door and opening the alarm panel.

“Yeah, you’d know a thing or two about that, huh?” Nicole rolled her eyes at the woman playfully.

“Hilarious.” Wynonna deadpanned. “All I’m saying is that you should probably watch your back for the next few days. Don’t wanna get knee-capped in a back alley or something like that.”

Wynonna had obviously meant it as a joke, but she also hadn’t seen what Waverly had seen from the Bobcats’ coach. She wouldn’t put it past anyone with a nickname like the _Swamp Witch_ to try something Tonya Harding-esque.

“Oh, shut it Wynonna.” Waverly slapped her sister on the shoulder, deciding not to think of any hypothetical danger to Nicole as they approached the truck. She climbed into the backseat with her girlfriend, pulling her in close for warm embrace. “You…were incredible tonight.”

“Mmm, thank you baby, but it was more luck than anything.”

“I couldn’t have played that long without giving up, tell me again, how many minutes did you play tonight?”

“I think you already know that; you know, you being scorekeeper and all.”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you tell me about your incredible game.”

“I wanna say, forty…six minutes?” Nicole said through a yawn.

“Forty-six minutes and fifty-eight seconds to be exact.”

Nicole nodded, resting her head on Waverly’s shoulder, stifling another yawn.

They rode in silence for the last couple of minutes of the ride back to the homestead. Wynonna hollered at the pair when they pulled into the drive and they hopped out and made their way inside.

Upstairs, Waverly had changed into her pajamas and was finishing up brushing her teeth a little bit faster than she normally would, but it had been a long day and she wanted to get to her girlfriend as quick as possible.

“Hey, you gotta tell me all about that play on that goal,” she called as she walked down the hall back to her room. “Was it your id—”

She cut herself off at a sight that made the entirety of her being melt. Nicole had been sprawled out on the bed, still in her team sweatsuit and beanie, her face softened with the peace of sleep. The events of the day had surely caught up to her, and tucking into bed with her girlfriend, she pulled the beanie off her head and the blankets over the two of them, falling quickly into a content sleep.


	15. Western Conference Playoffs Round One: Part Two

**Game 3: Sunday, April 14—Purgatory @ Brandon (Series tied 1-1)**

“Ow…Ow… _Ow!_ ” Nicole hissed as Kate worked, “ _Motherfu—”_

“Okay, seriously? You’re numbed up. Who knew you could be such a whiner, Red?” The trainer said with a hint of amusement, momentarily stopping her actions. “You know, you really shouldn’t move so much while I’m trying to sew your face back together.”

Nicole frowned, but apologized, promising to try to sit still.

She’d taken a high stick to the face that had left a gash right underneath her bottom lip that extended ever so slightly onto her chin. The action, a double minor penalty for high sticking, had earned the Devils a four-minute Power Play because Nicole had started bleeding on the play. It could’ve been a big break for the squad, a long time with a one-man advantage trailing 2-1 with just under five minutes remaining in the third. Nicole was beyond pissed that Doc had sent her down the tunnel for stitches, desperately wishing to be out there for these important moments.

She held onto a little hope that she might get to go back out for the last minute or so, or maybe her teammates would come through and tie it up and she’d be able to go back out for overtime, but those hopes seemed to be dwindling as she watched the clock tick down from where she sat, hearing the horn signifying that Brandon had potted an empty-netter to all but seal the deal.

Nicole was more than certain that Kate was good at her job, but still wasn’t all that fond that there was currently a needle being driven through her face. Even though Kate had applied a local anesthetic before she started, that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt (even if she may have been being the _teeniest_ bit dramatic). She hadn’t been able to see the gash before Kate got to work, but knew it had to be at least kind of deep judging from the amount of blood that soiled her white jersey. She could only imagine the reaction that Waverly would have once she saw her face.

“Waverly’s gonna kill me,” she mused aloud, “or she’s gonna be worried that I didn’t go back out on the ice, she’s gonna think it’s seri— _OW!_ ”

She flinched again, earning a scowl from Kate.

“Your girlfriend’s gonna kill _me_ if you end up looking like Frankenstein, so sit still, stop being a baby and let me finish. I’m almost done.”

This time she did her best not to move or talk, allowing Kate to just do her job. She started to hear the team file into the locker room next door, most of them silent after being handed another loss. The only distinguishable sound, Shae slamming the door and yelling _Fuck!_ , encapsulated the team’s feeling about falling behind two games to one in the series.

“Someone’s angry.” Kate couldn’t help but let a small chuckle escape as she switched out her suturing tools for a small bandage to protect the stitches. 

“I’m sure she’d call it passionate.” She rolled her eyes a bit.

“She can call it what she wants; doesn’t change the fact she’s a hothead.”

“Not really sure I wanna go in there right now,” she said, overhearing a muffled version of some intense monologue from the captain.

“Not even two minutes ago you were itching to get out of here.”

“Yeah, but that was to go back to play, not to get yelled at.”

“Well,” Kate started, “unless you’ve got some other injury, which will keep you out of the next game by the way, I’m afraid I can’t help you out.” Nicole pondered the idea, but decided a fake injury wasn’t worth it and decided to bite the bullet. Begrudgingly, she hopped off the training room bench and made her way to the door. “Godspeed,” Kate sent her off with a chuckle.

\---

As it turned out, she had lucked out and walked in at the end of Shae’s rant, just in time for a more subdued Nedley’s critique of the team’s play. He acknowledged that there was a lot to work on, mostly things that worked during the season that they had gotten away from because of playoff nerves, but also took a moment to praise the things they had done well.

With the game being a Sunday matinee, the team had time to relax and recover from the game. Nedley had assigned them to watch game film that he’d be sharing with them and to take notes on things they did well as well as things they could improve on. They’d have team breakfast tomorrow morning and discuss their notes then.

She’d been assigned a room with Powers and Finning again, but found herself alone there, the other two going down to the hotel bar to watch the Raptors game on the big screen. They’d invited Nicole, but she politely declined, knowing Waverly would be calling soon.

Her phone rang as she was getting her first proper look at the laceration on her face after an hour or so of Shannon calling her “Rocky” and Vic calling her “Scarface”.

 _Waverly Earp would like to FaceTime_ …

“Hey Waves,” she smiled, giving an excited wave to her girlfriend through the camera.

_“Oh my god, look at your face!”_

“It is a nice face, isn’t it?”

Waverly rolled her eyes.

_“Nicole….whateveryourmiddlenameis Haught, you cannot keep getting yourself hurt.”_

“Rayleigh.” Nicole said simply, ignoring the nice, albeit unnecessary, concern of her girlfriend. It was a part of the game, and honestly this wasn’t even that bad. Waverly’s concern came from a good place, and was endearing, but Nicole knew that short of bubble wrapping her entire body, she was always going to worry about her safety.

“ _Huh?”_

“My middle name. Rayleigh.”

_“Hold on hold on hold on.”_

Nicole heard the voice, though didn’t see it come from Waverly’s mouth. She was starting to think that maybe the call had lagged, but when she saw a second person enter the screen, she knew she should’ve realized it wasn’t her girlfriend’s voice.

 _“Your name is Nicole Rayleigh Haught?”_ Wynonna asked, laughing a little more than she probably should’ve.

“Mhm. And?” Nicole nodded, quirking an eyebrow at the older Earp.

_“Oh nothing, just thinking it’s a little pretentious of your parents to—”_

_“—Go away Wynonna,”_ Waverly interrupted her sister, shoving her off screen. _“I think it’s pretty. Like you.”_

The way her girlfriend’s eyes scrunched up when she smiled had quickly become one of Nicole’s favorite things in the whole wide world. Nicole couldn’t help but smile back, face blushing at the comment.

“Even with this big ol’ ugly gash on my face?”

 _“Especially with that big ol’ ugly gash on your face.”_ (She heard Wynonna gag somewhere off in the distance). _“Just don’t go off and get any more of those. You’re already lucky you didn’t get yourself a black eye in that fight the other day.”_

“Waves, it really isn’t that bad, and it’s kinda a part of the g…” Nicole trailed off, not daring to finish the sentence, catching the stern look on Waverly’s face. She revised her sentence instead. “I promise I’ll do my best to try to avoid getting hit in the face with any more sticks, or fists, probably especially fists, that really hurt.”

_“I’m gonna hold you to that, Nicole.”_

\---

From the looks of the outside, Nicole wasn’t quite sure that the diner would be able to handle them all. But, Nedley had insisted upon going to this specific little joint for team breakfast, and in the end, there had been more than enough room for the entire team. She chalked it up to it being _dimensionally transcendental_ , or whatever they called it on the _Doctor Who_ episode she’d managed to stay awake through when they’d hung out with Jeremy and Robin.

Twenty-two players, two coaches, plus Doc, Rosita and Kate all sat around a comically large table assembled by the diner staff who were far too friendly for Nicole’s liking this early in the morning—especially considering that they were technically the enemy in this city. Once they’d been served and were well into their meal, Nedley addressed the team, asking them to go around the table and say one thing that they thought they did well last game, and one thing they would focus on doing better in the next.

A lot of notes were similar—needing to connect passes better, making the smart play instead of the fancy one, so when they reached Nicole, she struggled to find something unique to add.

“So, uh, for a positive, I’d say communication in the defensive zone and on the breakouts was good across the board,” the team around her nodded, “and one thing I definitely want to work on next game is keeping my head up and avoiding hits.”

She hadn’t expected the amount of laughter that the comment had earned, even Nedley cracking a smile as he drank from his coffee mug.

“Yeah, no shit Haught,” Saunders said through her own laughter.

“I swear to god I thought we were gonna have to start calling you a crash test dummy.” Shae chirped from beside her, her turn being next. “For a positive, I’ll say that I’m proud of everyone for not giving up. I know this series has been tough so far, but if we keep on working I know we’ll be able to come out on top.” A chorus of cheers and tapping knives on coffee mugs came in response to the captain’s praise. “And for the next game, I’d like to work on making sure Nicky over here doesn’t die.”

The table continued to be in good cheer, laughing at Shae’s joke, before she eventually corrected, saying that she’d like to focus on making better plays in the neutral zone. Nicole found herself a little suspicious, considering that this had been one of the few times Shae had been (almost) openly amicable toward her.

Once they had finished the meal, the team stood to head back to the hotel across the street, thanking the diner staff as they left. The elevator was packed as they rode to the fourth floor the hotel had blocked off specifically for the team. She was about to swipe into her room when she felt a sharp tug on her jacket, and was quickly pulled into the one next door.

Disoriented and in shock, she barely registered that this was Shae’s room as she was pinned up against the door. For a second, flashes of that night at the UofA party ran through her mind, the dark of the curtains still being drawn in the room not helping her differentiate past from present.

“What the hell did you say to Bunny?” the taller woman almost growled, still pinning the redhead’s shoulders to the doorway with her forearm.

“Huh?” Nicole managed, still more than a little jarred from the manner in which she’d been put in this situation. She was sure she had whiplash from the violent 180 Shae’s attitude toward her had taken in just under an hour.

“What the fuck did you say to Bunny?” she repeated, no change in her tone.

“What? Nothing? Shae what’re you talking about?”

“I know why you were suspended in February.”

This wasn’t exactly a surprise to Nicole who had had a hunch that Shae would either be told, or find out somehow. She was just struggling to see the relevance now.

“O-okay, why does that mean you have to pin me up against the door right now though?”

“Because that hag is breathing down my neck now, asking me all kinds of questions.”

“What does that have to do with me, exactly?” Nicole challenged, still not sure what Shae was getting at. The captain didn’t move, but Nicole saw the muscle in her cheek tense, and the pressure of her forearm against her chest growing stronger, now making her a little more than uncomfortable. (Now it was really starting to feel like that night all those years ago).

The silence hung thick with the (admittedly unnecessary) tension in the air. The only thoughts that Nicole’s brain would allow sped through her mind like a jet plane. _Oh my god, don’t kiss me. Do NOT, please don’t do it. She’s not, is she? She can’t. I have a girlfriend—OH GOD, Waverly’s gonna kill me—this didn’t end well five years ago and it won’t end well now_.

When Shae still wouldn’t move, Nicole shook her head, as if the physical act would shake the thoughts away. She took a deep breath (or tried to, the weight of the woman’s forearm pressed against her chest making it harder than it should’ve been) to try to help clear her mind and decided she’d have to break this.

“Shae, it’s kinda hard to answer you when you’re pressing me up against the wall like this.” Almost like she’d just realized their situation, Shae jumped backward as if she’d been burned. “Thank you. Now can you explain what the hell you’re talking about, because I’m kinda lost here.”

“Bunny’s been dropping hints, and asking all kinds of questions about…” Shae gestured vaguely with her hands, “…you know.”

“She asked if you were gay?”

“Not in so many words, but yeah.”

“And you think that _I_ told her?”

“Did you?”

“How do you think that conversation went Shae? You think she pressured me and I said _Oh, hey I think you should know that your captain shoved her tongue down my throat in college_?” Nicole said after a singular hollow laugh. “God, Shae, she threatened to trade me because I decided to be out and proud on TV. Do you really think I’d put you or anyone else in a situation like that? Do you think I’d out you to save my skin?”

She could see Shae bite the inside of her cheek and cross her arms, and for a second she thought she might’ve gotten through to the woman.

“ _You_ kissed _me_.”

“Excuse me?”

“That night. You kissed me.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind Nicole knew that it probably wasn’t the best idea to get into an argument of this kind in the middle of a playoff series they were currently trailing in, but here they were.

“You and I clearly have different memories of what happened that night.”

“Not a memory, just the truth. You can’t tell me you weren’t looking to do that all night, and then you did.”

“How can you be so delusional?” She huffed. “I didn’t even know I was gay until you kissed me. I didn’t even want to go out to that party, but Pierce and Kennedy said it was _recruit tradition_. _I_ wasn’t looking for anything. _You_ were drunk and you found me in a corner of the room, and you shoved me up against the wall and you kissed me.” When Shae didn’t respond, she continued. “Look, obviously you’ve got some internalized homophobia or something, but don’t take it out on me, and _definitely_ don’t tell me what happened that night, I remember every single second.”

“I’m not gay.”

“No one’s saying you are.” Nicole conceded, trying to drop the intensity that had crept into her tone and lowering her voice. The walls in the hotel room weren’t exactly thick, and neither of them needed anyone else hearing this conversation. “But you have to know that there is _nothing_ wrong with being gay, or bi—kiss whoever the fuck you wanna, but you don’t have to live in deni—”

“Look, I don’t care about you flying your little rainbow flag, but don’t accuse me of being something I’m obviously not.”

“I’m not, Shae—”

“—Just get out of my room.”

Not in the mood to continue in a losing argument, she left the room. Apparently the only thing that had changed in five years was that there was less explicit homophobia in the way Shae Pressman kicked her out of her room.

\---

**Game 4: Tuesday, April 16—Purgatory @ Brandon (BDN leads series 2-1)**

**TSN** **@TSN_Sports**

CEWHL Playoff action tonight:

TR @ Summerside (TR leads 2-1)

St. John’s @ Charlottetown (CHA leads 2-1)

Purgatory @ Brandon (BDN leads 2-1)

Peg City @ Moose Jaw (PEG leads 3-0)

_16 Apr—12:00 PM EST_

\---

**PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

Off to a roaring start! Nicole Haught nets her second goal of the playoffs just :45 into the first to give the Devils a 1-0 lead.

_16 Apr—7:09 PM CST_

\---

**TSN** **@TSN_Sports**

Blue Devils fall behind 4-1 midway through the second period. Timeout called by head coach Randy Nedley.

_16 Apr—8:21 PM CST_

\---

**VANCE KERR** **@VKerr_CEWHLN**

Quick line shuffle in Brandon—Nicole Haught reunited with Victoria Powers and Shannon Finning after top line of Boardman-Haught-Pressman struggles. Uncharacteristic absence of chemistry between the line so far tonight.

_16 Apr—8:27 PM CST_

\---

**PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

Ready for the start of the third period, still trailing 4-2.

_16 Apr—8:52 PM CST_

\---

**PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

Super Powers—Vic shoots, Vic scores a beautiful top-shelf one-timer courtesy of Nicole Haught.

@bobcatsCEWHL 4, Devils 3

_16 Apr—9:12 PM CST_

\---

**PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

TIE GAME!!! Beth Harris wires one past the goalie for the Devs second goal in 37 seconds.

_16 Apr—9:13 PM CST_

\---

**TSN** **@TSN_Sports**

When it rains it pours—Nicole Haught nets her second of the game to take the 5-4 lead for Purgatory. 5:14 remaining in the third.

_16 Apr—9:22 PM CST_

\---

**_PURGATORY GAZETTE  
SPORTS: Blue Devils Survive Shaky First Half to Tie Series in Brandon_ **

_By: Jeremy Chetri_

_The Blue Devils got of to a fast start in Game 4 Tuesday evening in Brandon when Nicole Haught scored forty-five seconds into the first period. It looked as if they’d run away with the game from the start. And then the trouble hit._

_It started with a goal from the Bobcats’ Cleo Clanton, and then the top line’s chemistry seemingly inexplicably disappeared. Pucks were held onto for too long, passes weren’t connected, and turnovers were made. Frustrations were evident, most notably in an exchange between captain Shae Pressman and rookie center Nicole Haught who appeared to be jawing heatedly back and forth at each other._

_When the Devils fell behind 4-1 midway through the second, Sheriff Nedley had seen enough. A quick shuffling of the lines later, Corine Saunders scored a goal seconds before the second intermission to send the game into the break at 4-2. Saunders had been bumped up to center Boardman and Pressman, and Haught returned to center the Finning-Powers duo. Goals by Powers and defenseman Bethany Harris just 37 seconds apart tied the game, and Nicole Haught’s goal with 5:14 remaining proved to be the eventual game-winner. Shae Pressman added an empty netter in the final minute of the third to account for the final score of 6-4._

_The Blue Devils appear to have won this game despite the tension between Pressman and Haught, not because of them—even if Pressman finished with a goal and an assist and Haught tallied two goals (including the game-winner) and added an assist on Victoria Powers’ goal. Nedley’s line jumbling may have saved the game, but the two stars will need to sort out whatever problems may reside between the two of them if the team is going to find a way to win the series._

_The series shifts back to Purgatory tied 2-2 for a pivotal Game 5 on Thursday, April 18 at 7PM. The winner of game five has historically gone on to win the series 78 percent of the time, so there is no understating how important this next game will be._

\---

**Game 5: Thursday, April 18—Brandon @ Purgatory (Series tied 2-2)**

Nicole met Wynonna at the arena much earlier than she would’ve been under normal circumstances, really needing to get her mind right for the game. That’s how she found herself on the ice at 9 am desperately wishing the sound of the music blasting through her headphones would drown out the all the noise that had been filling her airspace since Monday.

Thirty minutes and an entire bag of pucks scattered across the sheet later, she hadn’t felt much better. Sure, they’d managed to tie the series back up, but she couldn’t help but feel like that last game was a loss. Bunny Loblaw had reared her ugly head again, calling her and Shae out for “unprofessionalism”. It had been the first time all season that the outspoken owner had been right in a claim. Nicole supposed that even a broken clock was right twice a day (though she couldn’t imagine her making another proper claim any time soon). 

She and Shae had admittedly been unprofessional last game, and it had almost cost the team. Nicole chastised herself the whole way back home to Purgatory for letting her emotions get the best of her in such a public setting, but Shae had been ignoring the open pass to her all game, nine times out of ten resulting in a turnover and had led to two of the Bobcats’ goals. Nicole had decided to confront her at what in hindsight wasn’t the best time, right as they stepped on the ice for a faceoff in the second period. Shae all but tore her head off. Five minutes later, the Bobcats scored and Nedley had had to call a timeout, effectively separating the two of them—like kindergartners.

As her headphones started to play _Born This_ Way by Lady Gaga, she ripped them from her head, not in any mood to listen to any sort of upbeat pop song at the moment. Nicole found the nearest puck and put her entire body into the shot, stumbling to the ice as the twig snapped in half. She muttered under her breath about _that stupid piece of shit_ , pushing herself up to a knee, throwing the broken pieces of her stick down to the ice.

“Jesus Christ, maybe I should take your place tonight.”

She heard, more than saw, Wynonna and decided not to turn to face her. If it were Waverly, the girl would’ve made her way across the ice in her boots to comfort her girlfriend, but she’d had to run errands with Chrissy this morning and wouldn’t be in until just before the game. Nicole was holding out hope that if she ignored Wynonna long enough that she’d just get bored and go away. But by the sound of skates gliding across the ice toward her, she should’ve known that Wynonna usually did the opposite of what people hoped she would.

“Get up Haught, I wanna play.” Wynonna said, now standing next to her.

Standing begrudgingly, she faced the woman.

“How’d you know I’d need a stick?” She asked as Wynonna offered one of the two she was holding. “You didn’t sabotage this one, did you?”

“No,” she scoffed, taking her hand to her chest dramatically, “and I’m offended you’d think that.”

“Well, you do have a reputation for prank pulling.”

“ _Never_ with something so sacred as a scorer’s stick.” Nicole searched Wynonna’s face for any trace of lying or mischief, but couldn’t find any. “Come on Red, sauce me a biscuit.”

“Is that your attempt at hockey lingo?”

“Maybe.”

“Well it’s awful.” She said with a laugh.

“Just shut up and pass me a puck.”

Nicole took the nearest puck and passed it to the woman across from her, who received it and sniped it top shelf with ease. Nicole stood there, mouth agape, not knowing about her best friend’s secret ability.

“Close your mouth Haught stuff, you’re gonna catch flies.”

“I had no—how did you?”

“I told you I should take your spot tonight.” Wynonna shrugged.

“I had no idea you played.”

“I don’t get why people don’t believe me when I tell them I could’ve gone pro.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“You’ve met me. Teenage juvenile delinquent, free spirit, town pariah whatever you wanna call it. No college program’s gonna take a kid with subpar grades and a hefty record.”

“Well that’s too bad, we could’ve been teammates.”

“I’m too good for this league anyway.” Wynonna shrugged off the comment. “Anyway, enough about me. Why are you out here ten hours before the game angrily shooting pucks and snapping your stick in half?”

The older Earp sauced her a short pass, that she slapped toward the empty cage, sliding into the bottom right corner.

“Stupid fucking drama.”

“Such as?”

“Bunny Loblaw.”

“Is that supposed to be news?”

“No, but now it’s causing problems with team chemistry.”

Wynonna gave her a puzzled look, but then seemed to stumble upon a realization.

“That fight you had with Shae last game.”

Another pass landed on her stick as she spoke.

“Bingo.” She said as she took the shot.

“What did Buns Buns do?”

“She started asking Shae questions that freaked her out, and she accused me of outing her to Bunny.”

“That’s a little ridiculous, even for her.”

“We fought in the hotel before the game, and it just carried over. She can’t even look at me, and when she has to, I swear to god she’s plotting my death.”

“Well fuck her.”

“I think that’s what got us in this situation in the first place.”

“That was actually pretty funny Red.” Wynonna laughed an honest to goodness laugh. “I guess I must finally be rubbing off on you.”

“Yeah maybe.”

“Okay, but seriously. Fuck that bitch, okay? You are badass, record-breaking, Nicole _freaking_ Haught, alright? Just do your fucking shit out there tonight and win the damn game. You’ll shut Bunny the hell up and it might help you get in good with your captain there.”

\---

Nicole looked up at the scoreboard as she took the ice late in the third period. The Devils trailed 3-2 with 3:15 left. Nedley had gone with the decision to keep the lines together that helped them win the last game. She took to the faceoff dot just outside the attacking zone with Finning on her left, Powers on her right and Hansen and Thomas behind her. Everyone in the arena was on their feet, willing their team to come up with the goal to tie the game.

She won the draw with ease, Thomas gaining possession of the puck as they set up an entry into the attacking zone. The two defensemen set up along the blue line, Thomas still holding the puck, looking for a pass. She had Vic just outside the left faceoff circle and Shan on the opposite half-wall. Thomas opted for the point to point pass, Hansen receiving the puck and making a slap pass diagonally across the ice to Powers. Nicole posted up in front of the goalie, setting a screen, dealing with shoving from the Bobcats’ defender in front of the net. Powers looked to make a pass into Nicole in front of the goal, but as the puck got to her, she felt the shaft of a stick pressed forcefully into her back and then stumbled to the ice as the puck slid into the corner untouched.

Nicole was furious, watching Cleo Clanton chase after the puck going unpenalized for the obvious cross check right in front of everyone. She heard the symphony of boos as she got to her feet to get back in the play. (There was no use in wasting time fighting with these refs over the non-call with the game ticking away).

Catching up to the puck carrier, Nicole swiped to take the puck off her stick, and then a shrill blast of the whistle stopped her in her tracks.

 _Not again_.

She’d been caught taking a cheap penalty late in the third period of a tight game yet again.

_“Blue Devils penalty. Number fifteen, Nicole Haught, two minutes for tripping.”_

As the referee all but locked her in a cage for two minutes, she cursed under her breath. With 2:17 left in the game, Nedley sent Corine and Shae out onto the ice to kill the penalty, but also to try to score. They couldn’t afford to lose this game and everyone knew it.

Everything felt far too similar to the first game for her liking. The way that the Bobcats’ power play moved the puck and rang the post, coming millimeters away from icing the game and taking the series lead; the way that the Devils scrambled to defend; and especially the way the puck landed on her stick moments after exiting the penalty box.

She was struck with the sickest feeling of déjà vu as the puck felt like an anchor on her stick. Seventeen seconds remained, and she was staring down the goalie, faced with a decision and the game on the line.

 _This is it Haught. Redemption_.

She’d failed miserably last time she was in this situation. Maybe this was the universe giving her a second chance to play the hero. 

_A hole. Glove side. Hit it._

She couldn’t hear anything but her inner monologue muffled by the sound of blood rushing through her ears. And then, out of the corner of her eye, the woman in the number eight jersey with a capital letter ‘C’ stitched onto the front appeared. Nicole couldn’t exactly hear her, but she knew, just _knew_ , she was screaming for the puck. She had a choice: pass the puck to Shae and hope the goalie reacts too late, or take the shot herself and hope the goalie thinks she’s gonna pass it. Nicole turned her body slightly toward Shae as she thought, the world suddenly feeling like slow motion.

 _“Fuck that bitch, okay?”_ She heard Wynonna’s voice overtake her own inner voice. _“You are badass, record-breaking, Nicole freaking Haught, alright? Just do your fucking shit out there tonight and win the damn game.”_

_Yeah. Wynonna was right. She’d never admit it to the woman, but she was right. This was her chance to win, to redeem herself, and she’d be damned if she gave it up._

Body still turned toward Shae, she slid her hands forward, sending the puck toward goal on a no-look shot. It froze the goalie, who hadn’t been expecting it, but had flown wide of the post and bounced off the boards with a thundering echo.

As the end of period horn rang out, Nicole sat on one knee in the attacking zone, watching the Bobcats celebrate the win, in disbelief that she’d manage to blow the same exact play twice in one season. Shae skated over and tapped her on the shoulder (a move that looked comforting and captainly to the cameras, she was sure), getting her to stand up and head off the ice. Once they were out of view, Shae shoved her roughly on the shoulder, and growled angrily in her ear, “This one’s on you, you colossal fuckup.”

And it was. (Hearing Bunny down the hall yelling “You are some kind of moron, Haught!” was just the icing on the cake).

\---

**Game 6: Saturday, April 20—Purgatory @ Brandon (BDN leads series 3-2)**

**CEWHL** **@cewhl**

Playoff series to date:

TR v Summerside (TR wins 4-0)

St. John’s v Charlottetown (STJ leads 3-2)

Sherbrooke v Moncton (MON leads 3-2)

Brampton v Bathurst (BAT leads 3-2)

Purgatory v Brandon (BDN leads 3-2)

Peg City vs MJ (PEG wins 4-0)

Edmonton v Calgary (EDM leads 3-2)

Steinbach v PA (PA wins 4-0)

_20 Apr—1:45 PM EST_

\---

**PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

Crucial game 6 in Brandon tonight! Devils fans, we need your support tonight

Game time: 7 pm CST/6 pm MST

TV: CBC, TSN, GRTV

_20 Apr—3:30 PM MST_

\---

**TSN** **@TSN_SPORTS**

Brandon coach, Margo Jean Clanton ahead of tonight’s potential elimination game against Purgatory: “This game, like the series is ours. We’ve neutralized their so-called stars, and the series will end tonight”

_20 Apr—4:45 PM EST_

\---

**TSN** **@TSN_Sports**

Purgatory coach, Randy Nedley on his team’s win or go home game in Brandon tonight: “This series is far from over. I’m ready for these girls to step up. It’s been up and down so far, but we’re ready to take it sky high.”

_20 Apr—5:02 PM EST_

\---

**Brandon Bobcats** **@bobcatsCEWHL**

Go CATS go! Cleo Clanton takes the lead off a pretty pass from Jolene DiMoni. 1-0 Bobcats, 3:11 to play in the second.

_20 Apr—8:14 PM CST_

\---

**PURGATORY SPORTS REPORT** **@JeremyC_PG**

Count ‘em 1…2…3…4 STRAIGHT. Devils ransack the Bobcats in the third period on four straight goals from Boardman, Haught, Pressman and Hansen to beat Brandon 4-1, taking the series back home 3-3 for Game 7 on Saturday night.

_20 Apr—9:21 PM MST_

\---

Nicole stopped off in the bathroom of the airport just before they caught their flight back to Purgatory. They’d done it. Somehow, some way, they’d done it.

She grimaced as she dropped her backpack to wash her hands at the sink, still tender from blocking a shot with her body at point blank range. She was certain she’d cracked a rib on her right side, but refused to go to Doc, Rosita or Kate about it—especially after missing the end of game three because of the stitches that were currently marring her face. Another woman turned on the sink next to her as she grabbed a paper towel to dry her hands.

“That was a good fight the other day.” The woman said, not looking up from the running water.

“Uh…thanks?” She answered, confused at the randomness of the comment. 

“No, seriously. You got a mean right hook, girl.” The woman turned to her, revealing a fading black eye and a large bruise spreading across her chin. “Takes a lot for someone to knock me on my ass like that.”

Almost immediately, Nicole recognized her as the woman she fought way back in game one, the jaw-jacking, self-ordained queen of chirps, Jolene DiMoni. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that.” She apologized; the fight uncharacteristic of the style of play she usually adhered to. “Sheriff Nedley told me to go out there and make something happen, spark some energy for the team for the next game, it’s nothing against y—”

“—No worries, Red. It’s a part of the game,” She waved her off, taking a better look at Nicole’s chin. “Did I do that?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Then I think we can call ourselves even.” Jolene smirked.

Nicole found it strange to be conversing with the enemy, but she decided that hockey players (even those on other teams) were people too and it was perfectly normal small talk anyway.

“So, game seven huh?” She asked.

“Makes for great drama.” Jolene added. Nicole nodded in agreement, though grew a bit uneasy at the way the look in Jolene’s eyes changed, darkened. She couldn’t quite find the word to describe it… _mean? Threatening? Devilish?_ She couldn’t quite form words in response. “Look, you’re good Red, which makes you a threat. If the best team is going to win, we may have to… _eliminate_ the threat.” Nicole swallowed dryly. “I’m telling you this only because I think you’re a good player and it’s only fair,” Jolene stepped dangerously close, centimeters from pinning her against the wall of this dirty airport bathroom, “ _watch you back out there next game.”_

Jolene backed away, put on a sickly-sweet smile, and wished her luck in the upcoming game before exiting the bathroom. Nicole released the tense breath she’d been holding.

 _Perfect_ , she thought. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about from within the team.


	16. The Two Greatest Words In Sports

Waverly Earp was nothing if not observant, thank you very much.

She prided herself on those skills. At first it had started out as a way to deal with all the crazy shit in her life—Mama leaving, Ward and Willa dying, Wynonna’s reckless years before up and leaving town. It had been easier to sit by and watch, to read people. She’d spent too much of her early life losing people she cared about to let just anyone in, or to let her guard down to anything that could’ve been a threat. It came in handy still today, even though she’d worked through most of her earlier issues (mostly).

It didn’t come without flaws though. For one thing, now that she’d gotten out of it, Waverly wondered what exactly about her relationship with Champ had appealed to her back in high school. Or the fact that her observation skills apparently didn’t apply to herself, not even being open to the possibility of female attraction until one Nicole Haught skated into her life. (Or rather she stumbled her way into Nicole’s).

Waverly Earp was nothing if not observant, which is why she _knew_ something was up with Nicole.

She’d noticed it since the Devils got in from the last game in Brandon. The girl had seemed on edge in a way that she hadn’t been previously. Waverly might’ve attributed it to the stress of the biggest game of her life so far coming up, but she couldn’t help but feel that it was more. At first she’d thought that maybe Shae or Bunny had caused more drama, but the news had been focused on the game more so than whatever nonsense the blabbering owner decided to spew and Nicole had adamantly denied any added trouble from her captain.

Nicole had actually come to work at the rink yesterday, something she hadn’t done since the playoffs started, the game schedule affording her little time to do anything other than sleep and recover from the previous day’s game. Waverly found it odd, but really couldn’t find anything to complain about. Who was she to question any time she’d get to spend in the red head’s presence?

She’d kept her eye on the girl, noticing the details that made her suspicious. She knew something was bothering Nicole, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Nicole seemed tense, jumpy, almost like she’d been looking over her shoulder waiting for someone to jump her. Waverly had returned to the storage room to grab another box of merchandise to stock the store ahead of Game 7, and appeared to catch her girlfriend off guard, if the way she’d jumped a full foot in the air was any indication. She’d watch fear turn to relief as Nicole realized it was just Waverly, releasing a breathy “ _Jesus Waves, you scared me”_ as she tried to laugh it off.

The one thing Waverly didn’t do was question Nicole on it. Not now. Not when she knew her girlfriend was mentally preparing for a pivotal matchup. Not when she knew Nicole wouldn’t have told her anyway, the damn girl being so damn stubborn. Pressing would’ve only put her in a worse mood.

So Waverly did what she knew best—she sat back and observed. She’d step in if she knew it would help.

The one thing that Waverly _did_ do was press the redhead on the injury she very much had. She’d noticed it when it happened, sitting on a stool at Shorty’s with Wynonna and Chrissy, seeing Nicole fling her body in front of the slap shot. Chrissy had cringed next to her as Nicole got up gingerly, Wynonna yelling _“Way to wear it, Haught!”_ at the television. She hadn’t been able to talk to Nicole before the Devils got back into town, but knew from the way she’d winced when she moved or breathed too deeply that Nicole did not come out of that interaction unscathed. But again, stubborn as she was, Nicole was not going to jeopardize any amount of playing time in a winner-take-all situation. So, no matter how many times Waverly pressed her girlfriend to go see Doc, or at least rest with an ice pack, Nicole insisted she was fine and kept working around the rink.

\---

**Game 7: Monday, April 22—Brandon @ Purgatory**

_“…they truly are the two greatest words in sports, Joan: GAME. SEVEN. And we’ve got three of them on deck as the ever competitive CEWHL playoffs reach the end of its first round. Tomorrow’s slate holds Moncton and Sherbrooke on the East Coast, with Calgary and Edmonton taking the primetime slot; but I’m sure the only thing on anyone’s mind is tonight’s game in Purgatory. Will the Devils get themselves a win in a close series after being chosen as heavy favorites? Or will the Bobcats pull off yet another upset, something that has become their brand?_

_In this back and forth series, there has been little ground to be gained, and no team has won back to back games so far. Does this bode well for Brandon, who lost in Game 6? Or will the Blue Devils finally find some of the consistency they showed throughout their historic regular season performance?_

_Let’s take a look now at the players to watch in tonight’s matchup. For Purgatory, Shae Pressman has provided some spark, but if the Devils are going to pull this series out, they’re going to need a standout performance from their captain. And we can’t talk about Pressman or the Blue Devils without mentioning Nicole Haught…”_

Waverly had been watching some of the pregame coverage in the arena office when she’d been interrupted by a knock on the door.

Turning around she saw someone she hadn’t actually spoken to in months, leaning against the door frame. She rolled her eyes.

“Hi Champ.”

“You still hanging around with that chick?” He asked, nodding toward Nicole’s photo displayed on the screen.

“Nicole? Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Mhm, how’s that going?” He asked, more interrogating than out of genuine interest.

“Better than you could ever imagine.”

Champ took a step into the room, making his way closer to Waverly.

“Okay, come on, it’s been long enough don’t you think?”

“Long enough for what exactly?” Waverly stood up from where she sat at the desk, crossing her arms, hoping her body language would tell Champ to back away. She really wasn’t in any mood to deal with him.

Unfortunately for Waverly, Champ only continued to step closer.

“Baby come on. It’s been months, I’ve learned my lesson. You don’t need to play around with that girl to make me jealous.” The boy-man said, too much swagger in his voice. (It made Waverly want to vomit). “I’ve stopped talking to all those other girls, it’s all you. I’m all yours.”

She had half a mind to slap him right then and there.

“First of all, I didn’t dump you because you were cheating on me—which I didn’t even know about by the way, but thanks for letting me know.” She snapped at him. She’d lied. Waverly had seen all the signs while they were together, but chose to ignore them, not wanting to ruin a good thing in a town with limited dating options. She just enjoyed the way Champ paled, realizing he’d exposed himself.

“Well, then—”

“—Second of all,” She interrupted him, poking her pointer finger into his shoulder to keep him at a distance, “I’m not _playing around_ with Nicole, and it’s definitely not to make you jealous. She’s my _girlfriend_ and I love her, and she loves me.”

“You—you’re just confused. Come on, remember how we used to be? I think I’d know if you were gay.”

“I don’t have time to get into how ignorant you are, so why don’t you just go away?” She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

Champ looked like a thought was forming in his mind, which was almost always dangerous—or stupid (usually both). 

“Look, I’ll do whatever you want,” he was pleading now, “if you like sleeping with girls we can make that work.” She cocked an eyebrow at him, half in disgust, half in _what the fuck are you saying?_ “Do you think that Nicole would be into—”

“—Okay, stop. I’m not going to let you finish that sentence.”

“Why not? I’m trying to make this work, make _us_ work.” Champ continued, oblivious as ever. “I guess that redhead’s kinda hot or whatever, so I’d be into it if she wanted to j—”

“—You’re disgusting. And an idiot.”

“What? Did I say something wrong?’

“Bye Champ,” she waved to him, not turning around or breaking stride.

She kept walking, infuriated, but not totally surprised, by Champ’s conversation. Maybe part of her even expected something like it sooner. In a situation like that, she found it best to just shut it down before it could escalate. The only problem lied in the fact that his ignorance got under her skin more than she wanted it to.

Being with Nicole for just about six months had taught her a lot about herself, but above all it had taught her not to settle when she wasn’t being treated the way she deserved. Nicole coming into her life had been the last tug on the wool that had been covering her eyes, and now she could see. Champ Hardy was a sexist, misogynist, and apparently (though unsurprisingly) a raging homophobe. She guessed she had to agree with Nicole that she had been “dating too many shitheads” before she met the redhead.

Still miffed, Waverly wasn’t watching where she was going, crashing directly into someone’s body,

“Woah babygirl, where’s the fire?” Wynonna asked once they’d both regained their bearings. Her sister immediately sensed her annoyed disposition. “What happened? Trouble in paradise?”

“No. Not it’s not Nicole.”

“Okay, but she does seem off, right? Kinda tense. I mean, more so than usual.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping it’s just nerves for tonight’s game. I know how important it is to her.”

“Mhm,” Wynonna nodded, “so what is it then? Why’re you walking around crashing into people?”

“Champ’s a moron.”

“Waves, that’s not news.” Her sister chuckled, “What did that man-child do now?”

“He’s just so stupid. We haven’t talked in months and he comes into the office trying to get back together and when I told him I was in a happy, loving relationship he told me that I was confused he definitely would’ve known if I was _actually_ gay. But then he changed his tone and suggested that we ask Nicole to join us.”

“Bleh,” Wynonna scrunched up her face, mock vomiting. “Want me to kick his ass? I’ll do it. I’ve been waiting to do it.”

“No, it’s fine. No need to engage his idiocy.”

“Fine,” Wynonna frowned in disappointment. “As long as you’re good.”

“I am. I get to watch my super awesome, pro athlete girlfriend kick ass every night.” She smiled brightly at the thought of tonight’s game.

“Hey, speaking of,” Wynonna interjected, producing a hat from her jacket. “Take this, I think you might need it tonight.” She took the baseball cap in question from her sister and examined it quickly. The navy-blue cap was slightly deformed and the text on the front read _PURGANTARY BULE DEVILS._ “We can’t sell it in the store, and since I bet Deputy Haught-to-Trot she couldn’t get herself another hat trick, I figured you could toss this bad boy on the ice for her.”

“Wow, who knew you were capable of thinking of others?” She teased.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it.”

\---

Waverly adjusted the cap on her head as she walked down the hallway toward Nedley’s office to grab the lineup card for the game. She’d found herself down in the player tunnel much earlier than she was earlier this series, so there were no pregame rituals to interrupt. However, as she approached the coach’s door, she heard disgruntled conversation. Inheriting the same sense of curiosity as her sister, Waverly brought her ear to the closed door of Nedley’s office to listen in.

“That’s my decision, and it’s final.” The Sheriff grumbled.

“But—” Waverly couldn’t quite place the owner of the voice, who sounded like a teenager arguing with her parents.

“—No buts. You two are professionals, and grown adults, and I expect you both to act like it and figure it out. I don’t know what’s gotten into you two, and frankly I don’t care. I’m putting you back together because it’s what’s best for this team, so I need the two of you to get it together and find a way to work together on this line.” Nedley said, voice just below an exasperated shout. “Do I make myself clear?”

Waverly wasn’t exactly certain who was in there, but had a fairly good hunch.

The two Nedley had addressed mumbled a simultaneous “Yes, Sheriff.”

“Good, now go get yourselves ready for the game. Dismissed.”

The sound of footsteps approaching the door forced Waverly to take a few steps back into the corridor, so not as to be caught in her eavesdropping. She tried her best to look like she’d just naturally been in the hallway, watching Shae huff as she walked out of the office, Nicole trailing behind her.

Inexplicably, though thankfully, Nicole looked less tense than she’d been over the last couple of days. Her eyes lit up slightly as she noticed Waverly standing there.

“Hey! What’re you doing down here?” She beamed.

“Just going to grab the lineups from Nedley.” Waverly nodded toward the office and Nicole nodded in understanding.

“Did you get to hear any of that in there?”

“Just the end. I take it you’re getting bumped back up with Shae and Jenna?”

“Yep, and _someone’s_ not too keen on that decision.”

“She really dragged you into a meeting with Nedley to complain?”

“No, no. Sheriff called us in to tell us to put whatever our issues are aside.” Nicole explained. “Honestly, I’m just over it. Just gonna go get ready, focus on pregame prep.”

“I heard you’ve got some big expectations to meet.”

“Wynonna told you about the bet.” She stated more than asked. “Nothing like a little extra pressure, right?”

“Obviously, because game sevens are so _boring_.” A sarcastic smirk graced her lips.

“Mhm, so maybe I need a good luck kiss.” Nicole said with wide, pleading eyes that Waverly could never ignore. “Ya know, since it’s such an important game.”

Waverly initiated the kiss, running her hands up Nicole’s sides stopping when the redhead hissed and her whole body tensed. She’d momentarily forgotten about Nicole’s injury.

“Sorry,” she said tenderly, moving her hands lower, away from the area.

“No, it’s okay, I’m fine.”

She gave her girlfriend a disapproving look.

“You know what I think about that.”

“Yes, I do, but you know what I think about going to the training room.” Nicole countered.

“I still think you should go see Doc or Rosita about it. Maybe they can do something for you.”

“They’re just bruised ribs, nothing you can really do for ‘em, except suck it up and play through it.” Nicole shrugged, though Waverly wasn’t quite sure she believed her. “It’s the playoffs.”

“God, you are _such_ a hockey player.” She jested.

“Yeah, but you _love_ that about me.”

“Mhm, but I don’t love seeing you in pain.”

“And _I_ love that about _you_.” Nicole bent down to place a kiss to the top of her head. “But I promise, I’m fine, and I’ll always be fine.”

Waverly was skeptical, knowing that that wasn’t something Nicole could necessarily promise in such a violent sport, but she let it go, seeing the happiness on Nicole’s face replace the tension that had been there.

The pair heard Nedley stand up from his desk and Nicole took this as a sign to go down to the locker room to start her pregame rituals.

“I’d better get going.” She placed another quick peck on Waverly’s lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” She reciprocated, watching Nicole turn down the hallway.

Waverly stood, staring just a second longer before she turned to fulfill the task she’d originally come down here for, just nearly missing crashing into Nedley as she did so. 

“Oh, Waverly, didn’t see you there.”

“No, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She said with an apologetic tone.

“No worries. Anything I can do for you?”

“Just down here to grab the lineup card.”

The coach nodded and waved for her to follow him into his office.

“You’re right on time, I was just finishing it up.”

He pulled the card from the stack of papers on his desk, handing it to Waverly.

“Thank you very much,” she said, accepting it. “How’re you guys feeling about tonight?”

The Sheriff ran a hand over his mustache and blew the air out of his nostrils.

“You know, I think they’re finally getting it to click, but it’s just been so inconsistent.” He said after a beat. “I understand the playoffs are a different animal and none of them have been here before, but sometimes I don’t know, it’s almost like they’ve never played before. It’s like I’m coaching Chrissy’s Mini Mites squad all over again—no offense.”

Waverly couldn’t suppress the giggle at Nedley’s comment, remembering the team she’d been on with the coach’s daughter when they were five. Neither of them had been particularly interested in learning how to skate with a puck on their stick or any of the rules of the game. Waverly was more fascinated with spinning in circles like a ballerina and helping her friend up each time she fell (a stage Chrissy never quite grew out of). She’d stopped playing around the time Willa and Ward died, though she’d been far too small and nowhere near aggressive enough to keep an interest in playing anyway. She loved the game, but playing was never truly in the cards.

“None taken. Like at all. Though I’m not sure your team would appreciate that comparison.”

“When they get their shit together they can be offended.”

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of getting their shit together,” Nedley paused, and Waverly had a feeling she knew what he’d be bringing up, “I don’t know what’s gotten into that girlfriend of yours, but she’s been off her game. And she’s fighting with my captain, that’s not like her.”

She didn’t even know Nedley had known about hers and Nicole’s relationship. She knew he knew that Nicole was gay and in a relationship, but hardly anybody outside of their little group knew the details.

“I-I, how did you…?”

“I do talk to my daughter, you know.” Waverly nodded. She should’ve figured it would’ve eventually got out, especially through Chrissy. That girl had never really been able to keep a secret. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you got rid of that moron Hardy boy.”

“Thank you Sheriff,” she said grateful for his acceptance. He’d been a fatherly figure to her for much of her life. “But about Nicole, she’s seemed off I know, but she won’t tell me why.”

“I swear that girl’s as stubborn as a mule. Not a great combination to put two of my hardest headed players together when they’re bickering, I know, but there’s no questioning that this team plays better when they’re on the ice at the same time.” He said, referencing Shae. “Just before you came down here I had to set ‘em right and tell ‘em to stop acting like children long enough to win this damn game tonight.” 

“I think they will, I know that both of them are super competitive and want to win.”

“They’d better. I’d hate to bear the wrath of Bunny of we can’t pull it out tonight.” At that moment, the phone on Nedley’s desk rang, and he excused himself to answer it. He muttered a few gruff replies to whoever was on the other line and then put the phone back on its hook. “Speak of the devil, Bunny and Dolls are upstairs; media wants some soundbites. Ridiculous if you ask me, but hey, duty calls.”

“I’ll let you go then Sheriff,” Waverly tipped her baseball cap to him, “It was good talking to you. Good luck out there.”

\---

She let herself into the scorekeeper’s box in between the benches just as Robin was switching over from his music to the team’s warmup tracks. Her partner, _Randy_ , hadn’t been there yet, which Waverly was grateful for, needing the space in the box to set up properly for the game.

The arena was just about empty, save for a few fans who had got in early, but Waverly could feel it was the calm before the storm. She’d seen the books in the office, knowing that tonight was yet another sellout, and that this place would be rocking sooner rather than later. The locals around town had been buzzing about game seven since the Devils pulled out a win in game six, and people had started arriving from Brandon almost immediately after the last matchup. The eyes of the entire league were on tonight’s game, and everyone was expecting a good show.

She heard chanting approaching the Devils’ bench from the tunnel, knowing that the team was going through its customary routine before heading out onto the ice for warmups. They didn’t dare enter until the other team skated out, waiting for Robin to flip on the song that told them it was okay to go out. Once they got the all clear, Miller led the team out, followed by Shae who knocked down the pyramid of pucks from off the boards and the rest of the team followed behind her.

There was another commotion from down in the tunnel about five minutes into warmups, which Waverly found odd—until she peaked down the tunnel and she realized who was responsible for it.

It was like a scene in a sitcom, watching it unfold.

Bunny Loblaw with her giant purse was struggling down the corridor, an exasperated Xavier Dolls in front of her, trying to block her path.

“Bunny please, let’s just go watch warmups from the box,” He pleaded, looking comically less composed than Waverly had ever seen the man. “It’s much more comfortable, don’t you think?”

“I’m the damn owner and I’ll watch my team from wherever I so choose.”

“I understand that, but I think that—”

Dolls hadn’t been able to finish his sentence, Bunny smacking him right across the face with her Gucci knockoff handbag. She took advantage of the situation—Dolls taking his hand to his face to check for blood—and practically sprinted around him to reach the bench.

The woman stood up on the bench, looking much like the NHL coaches in the ‘70s right before they got ejected from games the way she started barking nonsense orders to the team. The confused looks from both teams were priceless, Bunny looking like an absolute buffoon from where she stood.

Dolls had made his way to the bench, but let Bunny continue, probably learning his lesson in trying to hold the owner back from anything she wanted.

And then, as if the hockey gods were smiling down upon the team, an errant puck found its way flying directly toward Bunny’s face. The whole squad watched from the ice as the object collided with the woman’s jaw, knocking the dentures right out of her mouth. Waverly swore she heard Finning mutter, “well that oughtta shut her up” to Hansen from right in front of Waverly’s seat.

As if shutting Bunny up were ever possible. She jumped down from the bench, screaming bloody murder, Dolls stepping in to guide her away from the bench.

“ _You_ ,” she spat at Dolls, though it was muffled and distorted, “you should’ve never let me come out here.”

Dolls didn’t even respond to the admonishment, instead leading her down the tunnel, suppressing the closest thing to a laugh Waverly had ever seen come from the man. Waverly herself couldn’t help but titter at the interaction, having the feeling that Bunny had it coming. It was almost impressive that she could still be so ornery and annoying even as she was forced to pick up her dentures in front of everyone.

The players on the ice played concerned for as long as it took for Dolls to get her down the tunnel, but the second she had disappeared, there was a collective sense of good humor, a lot of them openly cracking jokes at the expense of the owner who had been nothing short of verbally abusive all season.

Randy entered the box, unnecessarily large soda and stupid radio in tow, from the Bobcats’ side of the tunnel. She hadn’t regretted her decision to not follow the team to be the scorekeeper for their games in Brandon, needing the reprieve from his general stupidity and douchieness.

“What’d I miss?” He asked, plopping down unceremoniously on the seat near her.

“Nothing,” she said her laughter as it slowly died down.

“Oh, okay,” he replied, her answer seeming to satisfy his question. He narrowed his eyes at her hat, trying to read it. “Hey, I think you should get a refund on that hat, I think they misspelled some words.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely look into that.” She appeased him.

“Hey, it’s game seven.” Randy told her, even though he knew she knew that. “That means that no matter what happens, this’ll be the last time we work together.”

“That it is.” (She’d wanted to say “Thank God”, but was far too nice for that. She’d already gone off on him earlier this series and didn’t need to expend any more negative energy on him).

“But that doesn’t have to mean this has to be the last time we see each other.” He bit his lip all douchey. “What do you say I take you out to dinner after the game, and then we see where this,” he pointed between the two of them, “takes us.”

“Well, Randy,” she did her best to stifle the cackle that was building within her, “I’m flattered. Truly. But, I have a girlfriend.”

“Hmm, okay,” he pondered for a moment, “well that’s not ideal, but I guess I could be into that if you two were down.”

( _God_ , what was it with the men around her today?)

“No, I think we’ll pass.”

“That’s your loss then.” He muttered, but was significantly less standoffish in the face of rejection than Champ had been.

“I’m sure it is.”

Both of them got busy with their pregame preparations while the two teams continued theirs. Waverly had gone back to look at stats in her notebook from earlier in the series, taking time to copy over the ones from game six as the last of the players skated off the ice for Champ to resurface the sheet.

As she was finishing up, Wynonna called her phone. She’d barely gotten in a greeting before Wynonna was cutting her off excitedly.

“ _Dude! Guess what?”_

“What?”

“ _Bunny got hit in the face with a puck.”_

“I know. I saw the whole thing.”

“ _You lucky bitch.”_

“She wanted to watch warmups from the bench and then got pissed at Dolls for letting her.”

_“You know all that, but do you know what Doc just told me?”_

“What?”

“ _Bunny demanded that they take her to the hospital—”_

“—Let me guess, she said something racist about immigrant doctors.” She interrupted, Randy snapping his head over in interest in the conversation.

_“Yes, obviously, but that’s not even the crazy part.”_

“God, Wynonna just tell me.”

_“They X-rayed her jaw at the hospital, and it’s broken. They have to wire it shut.”_

“That’s the best news anybody could ever get.”

_“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy about anything.”_

“Me neither,” she said as the music in the arena started to pick up. Waverly saw Perry enter the PA box next to Robin, signifying that the teams were coming out at any second now. “Hey, I gotta go, the game’s about to start.”

“ _Later loser.”_

“Love you too Wynonna.”

She hung up just as Perry was announcing the starting lineup for the Bobcats. Unsurprisingly, Cleo Clanton and Jolene DiMoni were among the starters sent out by the Swamp Witch to open up the game. The lights dimmed as Perry switched over to the home starters, the crowd noise starting to pick up. As per usual, she cheered especially loudly for Nicole.

The starters had lined up on the blue lines for the national anthem, giving Waverly the ability to try to get a read on her girlfriend’s body language. Standing in between Shae and Jenna, she looked focused on the task at hand, albeit an appropriate amount of tense with nerves considering the magnitude of this game. At least on the outside she and Shae looked like they weren’t going to rip each other’s throats out, which she supposed was a good thing.

Chrissy walked onto the red carpet that Robin and Champ rolled out as Perry called for the crowd to stand and remove their caps. Filled with pride in her hometown, Waverly swears she’d never heard _O Canada_ sung so loudly.

Now that all the pregame ceremonies had finished, it was time to bring about the beginning of the end of this series. Nicole faced off against Jolene as the referee dropped the puck for game seven to commence.

She was glad she got to start her scorekeeping night by marking a win in Nicole’s faceoff column. If anyone expected the long series to diminish the physicality between the two teams, that’s not what they got. The game started off just as heavy hitting as it had in game one, and Randy’s stupid radio show made sure to commend each and every check that the Bobcats finished with an exaggerated _“Ooh, that’s gotta hurt”_ or _“Absolutely CRUNCHES another Devil into the boards”._

The first ten minutes recorded more total hits than total shots on goal, which was great on entertainment value, but not on actual gameplay. Nedley seemed annoyed that they were taking the body instead of making a good play on the puck, and vocalized it to his players as each line returned to the bench from their shifts.

Twelve minutes into the period, Shae won a puck battle along the boards, coming away with it and looking to counterattack. In the crosshairs of a Bobcat defender, Shae took a hit to make a play, dumping the puck off to Jenna who flew up the right-wing boards, Nicole jumping into the play to create a 2-on-1. It was a more than simple finish for Nicole once Jenna had sold the goalie on the shot and slid the puck across for Nicole to tap it into the wide open cage, giving the Devils the lead.

Anyone who hadn’t known wouldn’t have seen the wince Nicole tried to conceal as she threw her hands up in celebration, but Waverly had known and she had seen it. She still wasn’t all that accepting of her playing through an obvious injury, but knew hockey culture was notorious for bucking up and playing through just about anything.

 _“Bluuuuuue Devils GOAL! Scored by number fifteen, Nicole Haught! Assisted by number fourteen Jenna Boardman and number eight Shae Pressman!”_ Perry announced over the speakers, the crowd roaring a few decibels higher than it had already been. The crowd had been so loud that she could barely make out _Wingnut and Country Joe’s_ commentary and grumblings about the Bobcats being down 1-0. Nedley over on the bench looked pleased with the cohesiveness of his top line thus far; Margo Jean looked not displeased, but rather just cold and calculating, her arms crossed over her chest.

(She checked her phone when she saw that Wynonna had texted her.

 **Wynonna: One down, two to go** ).

The game resumed, the physicality remaining, but being placed on a back burner second to offense now that a goal had been scored—the Devils looked to defend the lead and add onto it, the Bobcats focused on erasing it.

The visitors had come close to tying it on a couple occasions, but hadn’t quite been able to put the puck past Miller up until they capitalized on an opportunity with 3:03 remaining. The top line had been running around the defensive zone, doing well to fill all the shooting lanes and limit any opportunity for their opponents to score. On a rare lapse in coverage, a big Brandon defender stood at the blue line with a good look on goal. The shot deflected off of a skate extended into its path at the last second and landed on the stick of one of their forwards along the wall, and Nicole slid her body into the shooting lane, wearing the shot on her right side yet again. It had stunned Nicole for a second, and Cleo Clanton was the first to react, picking up the loose puck. Since Nicole, who had been essentially taken out of the play, was responsible for Clanton, she was essentially wide open and netted the puck rather easily from point blank range.

_“…and just like that this one is tied Joe, but we all knew it was only a matter of time.”_

Waverly looked to the bench, making eye contact with Nicole, who mouthed to her _“I’m fine”_ (while looking very much not fine), knowing that Waverly had just seen her get hit again.

The two teams went into the intermission tied at a goal apiece.

On the flip side of the break, the game remained the same as it had been to start the first period. Since the game had once again been tied, it seemed like a switch had flipped between the two teams, both of them returning to playing the body more often than the puck.

When Nicole took the ice for her second shift, the timing had been perfect for Angelique to hit her with a lob pass from deep in the defensive zone that landed on the center’s stick just before the attacking blue line, sending her in on another breakaway. Waverly knew that these had been something that Nicole didn’t always do well with, either beating the goalie or completely missing the net. This time, she would not be denied, snapping the puck right past the goalie’s ear, ringing the crossbar and falling down straight into the net.

_“Bluuuuue Devils GOAL!! Scored by number fifteen, Nicole Haught! Assisted by number three, Angelique Meunier and number thirty, Lauren Miller!”_

She received another text from her sister.

**Wynonna: That’s two**

She found it odd that Wynonna was openly rooting for Nicole to win their bet, but appreciated the enthusiasm anyway.

_“…I hate to say it Joe, but Haught going bardownski was one of the prettier shots I’ve seen this year…”_

“Damn that bitch Haught’s been a real pain in the ass all series, right?” Randy complained from beside her.

“You have to know I don’t agree with you on that one.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right.”

The Bobcats’ coach looked less than pleased now, muttering under her breath, scowling at the game in front of her. Nicole’s line stayed out on the ice, seeing as she’d scored less than fifteen seconds into the shift. On the faceoff following the goal, Jolene muscled Nicole off of the puck and allowed her left winger to swoop in to take it. Instead of peeling off to set up offense like the rest of her team, the Bobcats’ center followed Nicole around, stalking her much like the way she had before their fight in the first game. Waverly hoped that this wouldn’t escalate into a repeat performance; with the still healing gash on her chin and the repeated blows to her ribs, Nicole was in no condition to throw her fists around.

As the defense worked in the zone, they eventually got the puck out into the neutral zone, and Nicole trailed behind the play after flipping it out from behind the goal line. Out of view of the refs, with all attention turned toward the Devils entering the attacking zone, Jolene skated across Nicole’s path, discretely throwing a sharp elbow into the side of her head, knocking her to the ice momentarily.

Waverly expected a reaction from the crowd, or some booing of the refs for not calling a penalty, but it seemed as if she’d been the only one to see it, if the questioning looks she got as a result of her standing up and yelling at the refs were any indication. Nicole took more than a couple seconds to get to her feet and skate back toward the play, but made her way into the attacking zone as the visitor’s goalie froze the puck.

She knew something was wrong from Nicole’s body language as she skated to the bench for the lines to change. Even though no one from the training staff had come to check on her (because they hadn’t seen the blow to her head), Waverly knew. There was a blankness and a wideness in Nicole’s eyes that told Waverly that her girlfriend wasn’t all there. She hoped it wasn’t anything serious, maybe just a quick ringing of her bell.

A defender released a bomb of a slapshot that was tipped in front of goal and past Miller with eight and a half remaining in the second to tie the game, a score that would carry over into the break. From what she could see, Nicole appeared to be okay for the rest of the period after taking that elbow to the head, albeit a little bit slower than normal.

During the intermission, Randy asked to borrow her stat sheet. He’d said it was to compare the two to make sure they were right, but him spending the whole intermission copying her tallies into his sheet told her that he hadn’t been stat-tracking at all, which she knew all along anyway. She wondered why they even bothered sending this guy, or even how he got the job, considering he was so bad at it.

With the start of the third drawing near, the arena crowd (and she assumed the entirety of both fanbases) were on tenterhooks, ready for an action-packed third period.

The teams delivered on that expectation, zipping around the ice, trading both chances and hits. This was the sort of game that did well to boost league ratings, giving the fans every bit of their money’s worth in both intensity and entertainment value.

Finning rung the crossbar five minutes into the period, and Waverly thought the place might’ve exploded if the puck had gone in. However, it bounced back into play, eventually being sent down the ice for icing by the Bobcat defender.

The rules played to the home team’s advantage here. Icing meant that the Bobcats couldn’t make a change, leaving tired defenders on the ice for a faceoff in their defensive zone while the Devils had the opportunity to send whatever personnel they wanted to out there. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Nedley would send his top five out onto the ice.

With the faceoff in the left circle in the Devils’ attacking zone, Hansen and Adams lined up just inside the blue line with Jenna, Nicole and Shae lining up from left to right, ready for the draw. Nicole had owned the dot practically all night, and with the visitor’s best faceoff person on the bench, she had the clear advantage. Waverly was ready for the redhead to win the draw easily, so when Nicole reacted late and lost the draw, it came as a bit of a surprise.

Luckily for the Devils, the puck got caught in the skates of a defender, Jenna being able to dig it out. She got the puck to the top of the blue line where Hansen surveyed her options. She chose to carry the puck down toward the half wall, the rest of her teammates cycling to keep their shape. A passing lane opened up for Hansen to dish to Adams who faked a shot, seeing the shooting lane close. Her fake shot opened up Shae, who had filled in the slot occupied by Hansen. The shooting lane for the captain was much wider, and with Nicole setting a screen on goal, Shae unloaded the puck and sent a rocket toward the cage. The goalie looked poised to make the save right until the puck deflected off of Nicole’s stick and over her shoulder, making the net bulge as the go-ahead goal was scored.

Hats flew onto the ice at the sound of the horn, and Waverly stood, removing the cap Wynonna had given her prior to the game, adding to the collection. She beamed with pride, clasping her hands together excitedly, while Randy groaned from beside her and the radio commentators whined about the icing call that had led them to this moment. The line skated to the bench for fist bumps, mobbing Nicole for a playoff hat trick that just _felt_ like the goal that would push them across the finish line, even if there were still fourteen minutes remaining.

_“Bluuuue Devils GOAL!! A hat-trick goal, scored by number fifteen, Nicole Haught! Assisted by number eight, Shae Pressman and number fifty-five, Rylee Adams!”_

( **Wynonna: I guess I should bet Ginger Spice more often, huh?** )

Once the noise had died down and the hats were swept off of the ice, the game started back up with Saunders’ line taking over. Waverly snuck a peek over at the home bench, hopeful to catch Nicole’s eye. When she did, she saw the girl smile an uncharacteristically dopey smile back at her, giving a big thumbs up. Waverly returned a smile, but felt concern mount in the pit of her stomach.

Nicole’s eyes had looked even blanker than they had before the second period ended and she appeared a little more than slightly woozy. Waverly couldn’t be certain Nicole even knew where she was at the moment. The hit to her had had done more than just ring her bell. Seeing this now made her think of the delayed reaction to the goal that Nicole had just scored. Waverly originally thought that everything happened so quickly that it took a second for her girlfriend to process that it hit her stick and went in, but with this new information, and not to mention the curious faceoff loss, she was beginning to think that there was a serious concussion issue that no one was picking up on at the moment.

She wanted someone to notice, to pull Nicole out of the game, but none of the training staff seemed concerned because none of them had seen the initial incident.

A faceoff at center ice after a puck deflected over the glass came with ten minutes remaining in the period, and Nedley had sent the first line out to take it. Nicole climbed slowly over the boards, looking more sluggish than before. From the corner of her eye, she saw the Swamp Witch pull the center out onto the ice aside. Turning her attention to the interaction, Waverly saw the coach whisper some sort of direction into DiMoni’s ear, a sinister smirk growing on both faces.

The two centers squared up, and the ref stood between them, ready to drop the puck. It looked like Nicole didn’t even react to the drop, Jolene swiping it away with ease for the Bobcats to start an entry into the attacking zone.

As the Bobcats passed the puck around the zone, the Devils did well to block the lanes forcing a deflection of the puck into the corner. Nicole, being the closest one, took off in a foot race for the puck, skating hard down toward the goal line with Jolene hot on her tail.

And then, like it happened in slow motion, Waverly watched her worst nightmares come true.

Losing the footrace, Jolene reached out for Nicole’s shoulder with her free hand, pulling her weight back, knocking the redhead off balance, her feet starting to slip out from underneath her. Making matters worse, the opposing center finished the play, driving Nicole’s whole body into the boards, her right leg and head colliding loudly and awkwardly with the immovable object as Jolene followed through on the hit.

Waverly was sure chaos ensued as whistles blew, but she couldn’t focus on anything other than the sight of Nicole crumpling to the ice. Any air that had been in the building felt like it had been sucked out, and Waverly felt like there was cotton in her lungs, the ringing in her ears the only thing she could hear. Every second that Nicole laid there on the ice was another second that Waverly couldn’t breathe.

She held onto hope that she’d be okay. Nicole _had_ to be okay. She’d promised.

 _Get up, Nicole._ _You gotta get up. Please get up, for me._

But, she’d also bounced back up from hits rather quickly this season, and the longer that Nicole was motionless in the corner, the less likely it was that she was going to get up.

Nedley and the training staff sprinted onto the ice as the refs cleared the commotion away from the injured player near the corner boards. They did as much as they could, but Waverly watched through tear-blurred eyes as they motioned for the stretcher that was quickly brought onto the ice through the Zamboni doors.

Waverly had never felt more hopeless than in that moment (which in reality had been well over ten minutes), watching them take the stretcher that held the love of her life, loading it into the awaiting ambulance to rush her off to the hospital.

Eyes still trained on that corner, she saw a sizable blood smear on the ice that Champ had to scrape away with a shovel as the staff cleared out of area.

_Why was she bleeding? How was she bleeding?_

Doc had ridden in the ambulance to the hospital, but Rosita, Kate and Nedley returned to the bench, to close out the game (the last nine plus minutes had to be played out no matter how hard it would be to regain any semblance of game intensity after the unfortunate stoppage of play).

Nedley turned to her once he’d resumed his position behind the bench, giving her a sad look and shaking his head grimly.


	17. New-Homo-Lorax

She’d been in shock when she saw it happen, of course. 

She’d locked up the arena office and went down to watch the third period, leaving some security guard named Bruce? Bryce? Bryan?—whatever his name was—to ensure the safety of the entrance, seeing as she hadn’t had the opportunity to watch the a game not on the screen in the office all season. Gus had always had an extra seat next to hers tucked away and saved for Curtis’ memory, right up in the front row of the right corner boards, his favorite place to watch games long before the small-town community rink had upgraded to the venue it was today. Her aunt had welcomed her to sit in the seat, an honor not bestowed upon _anyone_ in the town of Purgatory.

It was all going so well, the Devils were winning, and she’d been texting her sister about the bet she’d made with Nicole. She hadn’t expected things to go so wrong so quickly.

Her seating arrangement had given Wynonna a front row seat to the incident. She’d seen everything in the highest definition possible—Nicole trudging toward the puck, the sick look of deviance that Wynonna knew all too well on Jolene’s face telling her that something bad was about to happen. And then there was the collision. She wasn’t exactly which hit first, her head or her leg, but there was the unmistakable sound of bone snapping and helmet smacking into the wall. The one thing she hadn’t heard was Nicole scream out or yelp or anything.

Wynonna had known Nicole now for a while and knew that she was as tough as they came. It was one of the things she respected most about her unlikely best friend. But she also knew that a collision that sounded like that would’ve hurt beyond anyone’s pain tolerance. Wynonna stood up to get a better view once the scrum had cleared away, seeing the redhead laying on the ice, motionless, right leg bent at an odd angle, blood pouring from her chin and what looked like some other source she couldn’t visualize. She hadn’t screamed, or yelled, or cried, which could only mean that she’d been knocked unconscious almost immediately. (Part of Wynonna took solace in that thought, that Nicole hadn’t really felt any of the pain, though she figured that it would be of little comfort to Waverly).

Her mind switched gears to her sister. Her sister who had just watched the love of her life be viciously attacked playing a game. Everything she’d been feeling, she knew Waverly was feeling and then some.

Gus joined her to look through the glass when Nedley and the training staff made it to the corner, clearing the few Devils players who had gathered around the area away. They’d tried to do as much as they could without moving Nicole, but quickly realized they wouldn’t be able to do anything for her while she was unconscious. They spent the better part of the next ten minutes safely moving Nicole, first onto a backboard and then onto the stretcher. Doc realized that Wynonna had been in close proximity just as they were getting ready to roll the stretcher away, shaking his head at her with a look saying _“This ain’t good_. _”_

Part of her wanted to go find her sister, hold her close and tell her everything was going to be okay, but after what she’d seen, she wasn’t quite sure what weight those words would hold. Part of her wanted to march straight onto the ice to give the bitch who hit Nicole a piece of her mind, or kick her ass—mostly the latter. But she felt paralyzed, unable to move from her spot, the reality of Nicole’s injury still not fully taking effect, but still enough to envision all the bad things that could happen to her.

She was guided back down into the seat by Gus, who had tried her best to comfort her. Wynonna found herself irritated at the fact that they up and started the game like they hadn’t just witnessed an attempted murder fifteen minutes earlier. Some logical part of her brain understood that the show must go on, and the rest of the game must be played out, but it didn’t change her feeling that it was _wrong_ to just go on like nothing happened. Instead, she sat in Curtis’ seat, her head in her hands trying to forget the images she’d just seen and the things she’d just heard.

“’Nonna, your phone’s ringing,” Gus had told her. She’d heard it, felt the vibrations, and had half a mind to ignore the damn thing, not really in the mood to talk to anyone right now, but something was telling her that she’d needed to take this call. The number was an unknown one, which normally would’ve deterred her from answering, but she ignored the urge, pressing the accept button anyway.

The call was quick; she gave a few short replies and shot upward once it had ended.

“I gotta go,” Gus looked at her curiously, but Wynonna didn’t have time to explain. “You make sure Waverly’s okay, alright?”

Her aunt had nodded, but if she answered verbally, Wynonna didn’t know, taking off quickly toward her truck in the parking lot. 

That’s how she ended up at Northern Memorial Hospital, asking the nurse at the ER desk for Nicole Haught. The nurse had paged someone, presumably the doctor in charge of Nicole’s case, and instructed her to wait in the waiting room for just a moment.

“Wynonna Earp?” she heard the doctor who’d just entered the room call her name, standing up to greet the woman.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

“My name is Dr. Gloria Valdez, I’m in charge of Nicole’s case here.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you, you were the one I talked to on the phone, right?”

“I was.”

“Why exactly did you call _me_ , though?” She asked, still not quite sure. She hadn’t thought to ask during the phone call, too hung up on the words, _Nicole, hospital,_ and _we need you to come._

“Oh,” Dr. Valdez looked at her, confused. “Were you not aware?”

“No.”

“Miss Haught listed you as her emergency contact, is this not correct?”

Under different circumstances, Wynonna would’ve probably been touched, maybe even honored, that Nicole had trusted her with this responsibility. Maybe she would’ve teased her about how terrible an idea it would be; maybe she would’ve told Nicole that if she ever ended up in the hospital it would’ve been because of something stupid they were doing together that Waverly _certainly_ wouldn’t have approved of.

The doctor looked at her expectantly.

“Yeah—I mean no…right, of course I’m the emergency contact.”

The woman seemed skeptical, but handed her a clipboard regardless.

“I’m just going to need a quick medical history—allergies, previous injuries or procedures, any preexisting conditions we may need to know about.”

Wynonna overlooked the paperwork, feeling slightly overwhelmed. She hadn’t known any of this stuff about Nicole. Sure, they called each other best friend, but they’d never had casual conversations about their blood type or anything remotely that deep.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know any of this.” She said, flipping through the pages, feeling a little useless.

“Oh, well, do you know if she has any immediate family in the area? Maybe her parents or grandparents?”

Last she knew, her parents were in Edmonton, but also knew that there was a reason that Nicole hadn’t put them as people to contact in a situation like this. Nicole had trusted her because she couldn’t trust them, and wanted nothing to do with the people who had given such little care to her growing up.

“No, she doesn’t have any.”

Dr. Valdez thought over the interaction, taking back the clipboard from Wynonna.

“Okay, well, as emergency contact, you’ll be in charge of any decisions regarding her care that Miss Haught cannot make for herself.”

Wynonna nodded. Made enough sense to her, though she couldn’t imagine how much help she could actually be.

“Uh…how is she right now? Do you know?”

“She is in serious condition right now, but the trauma team have gotten her stable enough to take her for a head CT, and then up for X-rays. We’ll know more about our course of action once we get these scans back.”

“Thank you.”

The doctor excused herself, getting paged to another case, leaving Wynonna to sit in the sparsely populated waiting room.

She tried to distract herself by watching one of the televisions on the wall. The game had ended at some point during Wynonna’s conversation with Dr. Valdez, the Devils holding on to a 3-2 win to advance to the second round in what Wynonna reckoned was an uneventful ending to game seven, all things considered.

She figured that a call to Gus was warranted, at least to explain what was going on and where she was.

_“Wynonna, where on God’s green earth did you run off to?”_

“Hey, Gus. I’m at the hospital for Nicole. She named me as her emergency contact.”

_“Is she alright?”_

“No, um, she’s hurt real bad,” she said bluntly. “Is Waverly okay? Is she with you?”

_“I’ve got her but she ain’t doin’ too good herself.”_

That was to be expected, but she still couldn’t help but feel for her sister.

“You keep an eye on her, yeah?”

 _“Of course Wynonna, what kind of guardian do you take me for?”_ The woman protested incredulously.

“Right, I’m just worried about her.”

 _“Me too,”_ Gus sighed over the receiver. _“She’s not herself. Robin and that reporter boy offered to clean up and lock up the arena, and I told her we could leave to go to the hospital, but she won’t. She’s as busy as a bee around here, I can’t get her to stop.”_

Wynonna frowned, knowing Waverly would take this hard. It’d been similar when Ward and Willa died, six-year-old Waverly getting really interested in doing schoolwork and readings beyond the ones assigned by her teachers. She understood it now better than she had when she was twelve; Waverly, in order to distract herself, kept herself as busy as possible so that there was no time to think about the bad things going on. (She supposed it was a better strategy than Wynonna’s rebellion and getting blackout drunk underneath the bleachers behind the high school).

“Okay, well, it’s gonna be a while before we know anything for sure. I’m in the ER waiting room at Northern Memorial whenever you guys can get here.”

_“Alright, bye Wynonna.”_

She deposited her phone back into her pocket, slouching down into the barely padded seats, trying anything to take her mind off of the shit situation she found herself in. The first thing she really noticed was the fact that this hospital was much nicer than it probably should’ve been for its location. It was no big city hospital, but it definitely had capabilities and capacity beyond a small-town one. The second thing she noticed was the steady stream of idiots coming through the doors. It had been a little amusing to see some of the people come into the emergency room, most of them casualties from drunken shenanigans from tonight’s game (it didn’t matter if it was Friday night or Monday night, Purgatorians would find an excuse to get drunk and rowdy). Pete York entered the ER holding his bloody nose, his brother trailing behind him, brandishing bruised knuckles, both practically incoherent after most definitely spending the night at Shorty’s; a few of the members of the Purg High ’07 hockey team rolled in, blackout drunk, propping up one of their buddies who’d had the _genius_ idea to show off his (lack of) parkour skills.

The stupidity of the townsfolk had offered her a little reprieve, but the uncertainty of Nicole’s situation sat heavy in the pit of her stomach.

Wynonna turned back to one of three TV screens after the people coming through the ER doors stopped being funny. The local sports channel had been playing, showing highlights from the night’s game. She turned away as the hit replayed on the television. She’d been there, she didn’t need to see it again. But the universe had other plans. The second screen in the room had been tuned to a program that again showed a zoomed-in, slow motion version of the incident. The third had been the same, a national news program reporting on the pending disciplinary actions against the Bobcats’ center, choosing to broadcast the images that had landed Nicole in the hospital. Wynonna felt like she’d entered some circle of hell, surrounded by a seemingly endless loop of the same images that would be burned into the back of her mind for life. She couldn’t escape it, and it drove her crazy.

“Can’t we put anything else on?” She snapped at no one in particular. “Turn this shit off, Jesus.”

A nurse at the desk looked at her with an unimpressed scowl, but changed one of the televisions, nonetheless. Wynonna hadn’t planned on watching TV, but she just _couldn’t_ be bombarded with the reminders right now.

Dr. Valdez walked through the door with a little too much purpose for Wynonna to think it would be good news.

“Wynonna,” she called for her as she approached.

“Yeah, what’s the news? How is she?” Wynonna bolted upright, meeting the doctor halfway. 

“We have to take Nicole into surgery, now. Her blood pressure dropped dangerously low while we were in CT and she has some pretty significant internal bleeding and a punctured lung. They’re prepping as we speak, but we need to inform you first as the contact person.”

“What you need my consent?” She questioned, seeing enough _Grey’s Anatomy_ to know that internal bleeding, punctured lungs, and the words _dangerously low_ , were more than serious. “Do the surgery, I don’t know shit about this kind of stuff. Do what you have to, please.”

Dr. Valdez nodded, informing her that they planned to send someone out to update her periodically, before taking off back through the door she came through. Pivoting to return to her seat, she caught sight of Waverly standing behind her, frozen, face dropping in abject despair.

“Waves,” Wynonna said, frowning, a pitiful tone lacing her voice. Her sister had to have heard the conversation she’d just had with the doctor. The younger woman tried to respond, but could only muster a distressed squeak. Wynonna stepped toward her sister, pulling her tightly to her body as Waverly started to sob uncontrollably. She’d wanted to tell her not to worry, that everything would be okay, but she couldn’t promise that. Her own tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she caught sight of Gus behind Waverly, a look of pure sympathy on the woman’s face.

\---

“Babygirl, you’re gonna put a hole in the floor if you don’t stop.” She said, the nonstop pacing of her sister starting to make Wynonna dizzy. She’d been partially successful in getting Waverly to calm down—she’d stopped crying, but the tears had been replaced by the inability (yet again) to sit still.

Waverly had almost knocked over the doctor who’d come to update them on Nicole’s surgery as he walked through the ER doors. Wynonna wasn’t too fond of the guy anyway. He came about 45 minutes after Wynonna spoke to Dr. Valdez, looked like he was _maybe_ twelve years old, and provided practically no useful information.

( _“They’ve got her into the operating room and they’re getting her under,” the doctor looked down to check his notes. Wynonna couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Was it this guys’ first day, or did he just suck at his job? “She’s bleeding internally, so they have to patch up the hole in her right lung.”_

_Waverly thanked the guy as he scampered off back toward the OR, but Wynonna could only scoff. He literally hadn’t provided any new information, and wasted everyone’s time with this so-called update.)_

Doc had found the three of them in the waiting room just before that, having already been at the hospital. Wynonna could tell he wanted to tell them everything that was wrong or could go wrong, but thought better of it, knowing that it wouldn’t help anyone under these circumstances. Nedley joined them an hour and a half or so after the game ended; Wynonna knew that his presence extended beyond his professional responsibility for his player, the coach having an obvious connection with the redhead. A couple of the Devils had stopped into the hospital, taking up a few seats around the room, but Powers and Finning had joined the closer group that had since expanded to include Robin and Jeremy, Rosita and Kate following shortly thereafter. Internally, Wynonna couldn’t help but laugh shortly thinking of how completely different this was compared to the last time this group had assembled—full of good cheer, strategizing and preparing for the playoffs.

They all sat, relatively silent, waiting for something, any sort of news, but as hours dragged on, they were left essentially completely in the dark.

Somewhere after midnight, roughly two and a half hours since Nicole had gone into surgery, Wynonna stood to stretch her joints, walking around the room, telling the visitors that it was probably going to be a while and that they could go home if they wanted to, seeing no need for people to sleep in the uncomfortable hospital chairs. The players debated, looked like they wanted to stay out of solidarity, but they’d had families to get home to, and really Wynonna understood. Nedley stood, and put a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave a curt nod as he left, looking to do the same for Waverly. Doc had tipped Gus his cap and placed a kiss to Wynonna’s cheek before he left as well. Robin and Jeremy excused themselves around one in the morning, walking out of the hospital behind Powers and Finning who’d been uncharacteristically silent the entire time. There was one player who stayed, however. Wynonna debated taking a seat and talking to the woman, but thought against it for the moment, seeing that they’d clearly been shaken by the night’s events.

She took a walk down the hallway instead, serving no other purpose than to get up and move around. She stopped at the coffee cart at the end of the corridor, purchasing four cups from the vendor who’d looked less than pleased to be there at this hour. Returning to the waiting room, she handed a cup to Gus before going to track down her sister. Wynonna was certain her sister must’ve walked well over a mile pacing the waiting room throughout the night, and she found the girl doing precisely that, right in front of the big window that looked out into the parking lot.

“Waverly,” she approached gently, receiving no answer or even acknowledgement of her presence. She placed a hand on Waverly’s shoulder to get her attention, her sister jumping slightly at the contact.

“Huh? What?” Waverly looked at Wynonna, startled. “Oh jeez, Wynonna you scared me.”

“Why don’t we go sit down for a while, yeah? Look I brought you coffee.” She extended a one of the cups from the tray. Waverly just stared blankly at the cups, not giving any sort of response. “Come on, I know you’re tired, it’s been a long day and you haven’t sat down since you got here. Let’s go.”

Hesitantly, the younger Earp reached her hand out to accept the offering.

“Wynonna?” She asked, voice much smaller.

“Yeah babygirl?”

“She’s gonna be okay, right?” Before Wynonna could answer, Waverly was rambling away. “Because she might not be okay. I mean, people have had much less serious injuries end their career. What if she never plays again? Oh, god that’ll kill her. Or-or-or, what if she’s paralyzed—Wynonna, she hit her head against the wall, what if she can’t walk again. What if—”

“—Is that going to change how you feel about her?” Wynonna interrupted, fighting the tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. Waverly was crying now, the most emotion she’d shown in the hours they’d been at the hospital. Wynonna knew she had to be the strong level-headed one. Her sister was watching her girlfriend hang in the balance; Nicole, stupid fucking idiot Nicole, had made her the one in charge of making decisions for her. Wynonna had to be the strong one, even though all she really wanted to do was crawl into a corner with a bottle of whiskey and stay there until everything went back to normal.

“No.” Waverly shook her head in response.

“Then, we’ll get through this. Together.”

“But Wynonna, what if she dies?”

Well to that, Wynonna didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what she could say to make it okay. She honestly didn’t know what would happen if it came to that. So instead, she reached forward to her sister and pulled her in tightly, letting Waverly cry on her shoulder. They stood there for an indeterminate amount of time, but eventually, Waverly’s crying died down.

“I’m tired Wynonna.” She mumbled into her shoulder.

“Alright, let’s go take a seat then.” Wynonna led the way back to Gus in the waiting room, not even bothering to suggest that Waverly go home to sleep. That girl wouldn’t leave this place until Nicole was walking out of it with her, that much Wynonna knew for sure. (Waverly was out like a light practically the second she settled into the seat, which Wynonna and Gus were grateful for.)

Wynonna left Waverly with Gus as she took her cup of coffee and the last remaining cup across the room to take the seat next to the last remaining Devil. Said woman looked up curiously, seeing the cup of coffee that Wynonna was offering her. Like Waverly, she looked at the cup hesitantly, only taking it when Wynonna nodded for her to do so.

“Thanks.”

“Figured you could use one. Crazy night huh?” Wynonna said as the woman beside her nodded. “How are you doing? I mean, you were right there when it happened.”

“I’m…” she sighed heavily, “it’s a lot. It was scary. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel.”

“You’re supposed to feel whatever you need to. You don’t need anyone to tell you how to feel.” She said, surprising herself with how level-headed she sounded. Maybe Nicole was rubbing off on her more than she realized.

“It almost feels wrong, to sit here and be upset. Not when you and your sister care so much about her.”

“Are you saying you don’t care about her?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then you’re allowed to be upset. She’s your teammate, you care about her too.”

“I haven’t been great at showing that lately.” She said, looking down to the coffee cup in her hand.

Wynonna knew that, but that didn’t matter now. There wasn’t a lot of outside drama and noise that mattered right now.

“Past is past, that doesn’t matter now. All that matters is what you do next.”

“You know, you’re nothing like your reputation around here.” The woman half-smiled, nodding her head, still looking at the coffee cup. “You sound exactly like Haught.”

“She’s been a good influence I guess,” she shrugged. “I promise I still live up to most of that reputation.”

Wynonna could tell the woman had more she wanted to talk about, but she seemed to have noticed something just over Wynonna’s shoulder and nodded her head in that direction. Turning around, she saw Dr. Valdez emerging through the doors.

“I, uh, gotta go see what she has to say.” Wynonna pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. The woman beside her nodded, thanked her for the coffee, and let Wynonna go off.

There was a serious look about Dr. Valdez that made Wynonna nervous. As she approached the doctor, she glanced over to see Gus and her sister fast asleep. Part of her wanted Waverly to hear the update, knowing all the conclusions she’d been jumping to, but part of her was glad that she’d be able to take in the information without the sad, terrified, puppy dog eyes of her sister listening in on the conversation.

“Wynonna,” the Doctor said as she finally reached her.

“How is she? Is she out of surgery? It’s been hours, are there any updates?”

“I want to apologize for not getting you all any more updates, there was a complication in the surgery an—”

“Complication?” She asked, keeping her voice level despite the fear that had started to surge through her. “W-what do you mean?”

“She’s allergic to the thiopental—the anesthetic we used,” she revised, seeing the question forming in Wynonna’s head before she could ask it. “She had a severe anaphylactic reaction to the medication, and it took us some time to restabilize.”

“But you did, right?” She couldn’t help but feel the guilt rise in her chest. She was the emergency contact. She was supposed to fill out the paperwork; the paperwork that would’ve told the doctors not to give her the thio- _whatever_ that could’ve killed her. But she hadn’t known anything of the sort, and it almost cost her her best friend and her sister her girlfriend.

“We did, but it took longer than expected to get her back.” The doctor confirmed, Wynonna only slightly releasing a sigh of relief. “She was bleeding in both her chest and abdomen. We were able to repair the tear in her lung and stop the bleeding, but she did lose quite a lot of blood.”

“Okay, but what about her other injuries?” She asked, knowing there definitely had to be more.

“On top of her internal injuries, Nicole also broke bones in her lower leg and in her ankle and suffered damage to the ligaments in her knee, all of which will require surgery. Unfortunately, because of the trauma and the bleeding, her body was too weak for us to proceed with any procedure tonight. We addressed the pressing injuries, and we’ll be monitoring her over the twenty-four hours. If Nicole remains stable, we’ll take her back into surgery to repair the leg and ankle.”

Wynonna nodded, taking in the scope of Nicole’s injuries. She’d seen the incident and the aftermath, so she knew that it would be a lot, but having the magnitude of it all explained to her was almost jaw-dropping.

“The blood.” She said, almost as if she’d suddenly remembered it.

“I’m sorry, the blood?” Dr. Valdez asked, begging for clarification.

“She was bleeding, there was blood on the ice.” Wynonna explained. “She was bleeding from her chin, but somewhere else too, I think. There was a lot of blood.”

“The existing laceration on Nicole’s chin had been reopened when she came in, and we feared that the blood around her ear may have been the result of a skull fractu—”

“—A skull fracture? _Jesus Christ._ ” She interrupted, unable to hold back her shock.

“We feared it may have been a skull fracture,” Dr. Valdez repeated, shifting her tone, “but the x-ray cleared that, and instead it was just a superficial cut just behind her right ear, that could’ve easily been from a skate or a stick from the incident. Just a couple of stitches, should dissolve in seven to ten days.”

Wynonna took a deep breath, relieved that at least something seemed to be minor. There hadn’t been much of that tonight—or this morning now, she supposed.

“Where is she now?”

“She was in recovery when I left her, but…” she turned to her watch, “she should be in Intensive Care by now.”

“Can we see her?” Wynonna nodded over her shoulder to the two asleep in the waiting room. “Or is that not allowed?”

“I can give you a few minutes, but just you for now.” She told her with a sympathetic smile. “Visiting hours start at 11 AM, and we’ll allow for any family to accompany you then.”

She nodded in understanding, following the doctor up to the ICU floor. The sterile hospital smell intensified as they approached the unit, the overhead fluorescent lights far too bright for her liking. It felt like she was entering a parallel universe with each step she took behind Dr. Valdez. The whirring of the automatic door echoed loudly in her head, the beeping of electronic monitors and machines adding to the cacophony of unpleasant sounds.

Dr. Valdez stopped in front of a door and turned to face Wynonna.

“I can give you five minutes, but no more. It’s important that we keep her stable and let her body rest.”

Wynonna nodded in understanding, the doctor pushing open the door.

Even for a hospital room, it felt far too clinical. Too many machines and too many wires; the smell of antiseptic burning at her nostrils; the sight of her best friend in a hospital bed, looking very much _not_ like the woman she knew; it was all too much.

The doctor entered first, using this opportunity to look over Nicole’s vitals and readings on all the monitors. When she noticed Wynonna standing timidly still in the doorway, she waved her in.

“Come on in,” she said soothingly, “I promise everything in here is for good. You being here won’t break her.”

Somewhere subconsciously she snickered. That was her exact fear—she’d been terrified to do any more harm to the already battered woman in the bed in front of her.

She took a few hesitant steps toward the doctor, who was checking the tube protruding from the redhead’s lips. Seemingly satisfied by all the numbers (Wynonna certainly had no clue what they meant), she walked toward the door, saying that she’d give the two their time.

Upon hearing the door close, Wynonna felt a surge of something she couldn’t quite name run right through her. From where she sat beside Nicole, she could see the new stitches they’d put in her chin; her skin was uncharacteristically pale, except for the faint remnants of blood around the wound. Less clearly, she caught a glimpse of the fresh stitches they’d put behind her ear, dangerously close to her throat. If it had been a skate like Dr. Valdez suggested it may have been, there could’ve easily been a more serious injury if it had caught Nicole even a couple inches lower. She took note of the tubes and IVs and wires that littered her body, unable to suppress her chuckle, thinking about the mess it would be to undo those wires if they got tangled up like headphone wires. Through a slit in the hospital gown, she could see a bandage wrapped around a thin plastic tube sticking out from between her ribs, and further down she could see it was connected to a bag filled with what looked like blood. Her right leg was splinted and braced, still yet to be operated on.

The reality of the situation was dire, Wynonna knew, and the weight of her role weighed heavy on her shoulders. She didn’t know enough to be of any use to Nicole, but the redhead had put her in charge anyway.

“Damn it Haught,” Wynonna sighed, “I need you to wake up soon. I have no clue what I’m doing here, and I don’t know if what I do is helping or hurting.” She searched Nicole’s face for any sign of recognition, but was met only with closed eyes and the faint movement of her chest in time with the machine breathing for her. She was only glad Waverly wasn’t here to see this right now; she wasn’t sure how the girl would react. “You need to wake up, Haught. If not for me, then for Waverly. Because if you don’t, it’ll break her, and I don’t know if she’ll ever be okay. That girl loves you, more than I’ve seen anyone love anyone or anything.” Wynonna cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes. She’d never truly been comfortable with showing emotions. It’d always been easier to crack a joke or a bottle. And since it was generally frowned upon to get drunk in a hospital…“And, you gotta wake up, because when you do, I’m gonna draw a bunch of dicks all over your cast.”

Dr. Valdez knocked on the door, signifying that Wynonna needed to leave the room. She bid Nicole a “see you later”, and followed the doctor back downstairs to the waiting room.

\---

**CEWHL** **@CEWHL**

Purgatory forward Nicole Haught hospitalized following a scary incident in the third period of Game 7 against Brandon. At this time there is no update on her condition.

_22 Apr—10:45 PM MST_

\---

**EDMONTON DRILLERS** **@drillersCEWHL**

Thoughts and well wishes go out to the family and friends of Nicole Haught

_22 Apr—11:15 PM MST_

\---

**PRINCE ALBERT RANGERS** **@rangersCEWHL**

On behalf of the entire Rangers fanbase and organization, we wish all the best for Nicole Haught and a speedy recovery

_23 Apr—12:21 AM CST_

\---

**PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

Many thanks to each and every single team, player, fan or otherwise for sending their well wishes. As of right now, we have no updates on Haught’s condition, but we will make a statement at the appropriate time. At this time, we ask for continued respect of the family’s privacy in these uncertain times.

_23 Apr—6:55 AM MST_

\---

She must’ve dozed off at some point, because when she woke up at 7:30 with a knot the size of Texas in her neck and back, she found that Waverly had rose before her with the same inability to sit still, but _thankfully_ wasn’t pacing the halls and making Wynonna dizzy. Wynonna laughed as she watched her sister track down and harass just about anyone who could explain Nicole’s condition to her. By 9:00, Waverly had burrowed herself into a stack of medical books, chewing on her nails as she read through the pages, her knee bobbing up and down.

Much of last night’s crew had returned to the waiting area, all curious about Nicole’s status. Wynonna had filled them in with as much as she could tell them, and they all sat somberly, doing the only thing that they could do—wait.

Under normal circumstances, today’s off day would’ve been a reward for coming out on top in a hard-fought seven game playoff series, but the Devils weren’t exactly in a celebratory mood. It felt more like their season had ended, but the team would have to gear up and prepare to take on Prince Albert in just three days’ time. The league had been sympathetic to their situation, and scheduled the first day of the second round to be a day later than originally planned—it didn’t seem like much, but Wynonna could tell that the players appreciated the gesture.

While most of the Devils had gone home and come back, Wynonna quickly realized that one had never actually left—the same one she’d spoken to last night. She took a seat next to the woman.

“You stayed, huh?”

“Uh, yeah.” She yawned, shifting in her seat slightly. “It’s not much, but you’re right.”

Wynonna furrowed her brow, confused. She loved being told she was right, but couldn’t place what she’d said to warrant it this time.

“Right about what, exactly?”

“It’s not about what you did in the past, it’s about what you do going forward,” she clarified; Wynonna nodded in understanding, vaguely remembering saying something that sounded vaguely like a bumper sticker. “I figured I’d start somewhere. Show I actually do care, no matter how awful I’ve been.”

“I know I don’t really know you all that well, and I only know what Red Haught’s told me, so I won’t lie and say that I didn’t hate you just a little bit,” she used her index finger and thumb to demonstrate, “but I think that in the spirit of healing we can put the past behind us.” The woman gave a small smile, nodding her agreement, wincing slightly, and taking her hand to her left eye. “You should see if you can’t get an ice pack or something on that.”

“Yeah, maybe I should,” she hissed as she pressed lightly on the darkening shiner on her cheek and underneath the eye.

“What you did last night, that was badass by the way.” Wynonna nodded, standing up.

“Just being a good teammate for once.”

As the woman made her way to locate anyone who could get her an icepack, Wynonna returned back to where she’d been sitting for most of the last few hours to see Powers and Finning struggling to keep up with Waverly’s rapid explanation of something in one of the books she was reading.

“…and this here, it’s called hemopneumothorax. It happens when the pleural space—that’s the space around the lungs, between the visceral membrane which is attached to the lungs and the parietal membrane attached to the chest wall.” (It would’ve almost been funny, watching the two forwards stare blankly at Waverly as she explained, if the situation hadn’t been so serious). “There’s all this fluid in the pleural space—”

“—Let me guess, it’s called pleural fluid?” Finning interjected proudly.

“It is!” Waverly confirmed; Vic and Shan hi-fived each other. “The pleural fluid holds these membranes together because of surface tension, so when the chest wall is injured—like from Nicole’s broken ribs—the pleural space can start to fill with either air, blood, or both. Since the surface tension and the pressure in the pleural space is disrupted, the two membranes can’t function properly, and the lung can’t expand and respiration isn’t possible, and so the lung collapses.”

The two nodded at Waverly, but Wynonna had spent enough time not paying attention in high school to know that the looks on their faces meant that they hadn’t really understood a word she said.

“Hey babygirl,” Wynonna said once Waverly had finally reached a pause in her explanations. “What’re we talking about?” (She’d already known, she’d heard everything, but she needed a way to officially join the conversation. Especially when Waverly seemed to have known more about what was going on than the doctors had explained to her).

“Dr. Cernak told me about some of Nicole’s injuries,” she pointed to a young-looking doctor across the room, “and then I snagged some medical textbooks and got to reading. I was just about to explain what they were doing in surgery last night to Vic and Shan here.”

Wynonna thought about asking her sister where she even managed to get the books, but her sister seemed to be in an okay mood all things considered, and didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Yeah, she was telling us all about the New-Homo-Lorax.” Vic said, pointing to the book in Waverly’s lap that had to have weighed ten pounds at the very least.

“ _Hemopneumothorax_ ,” her sister corrected.

“Same thing.”

“No it’s not, idiot.” Finning teased; Wynonna snorted at the interaction, feeling maybe a bit too light under the current circumstances, but she supposed it was better than wallowing in sadness and uncertainty.

“Alright, shoot Waves, tell me more about this thingy,” Wynonna added from beside the girl.

“It’s not so much a _thingy_ ,” she said pointedly, “as it is a combination of two conditions. Hemopneumothorax happens under trauma to the ribcage area, either from penetrating trauma like stabbing or blunt force trauma from heavy impacts like car crashes. It’s a combination of pneumothorax—air in the chest cavity, and hemothorax—blood in the chest cavity…”

Wynonna tried to pay attention, she really did, but Waverly’s essentially manic rambling had started to sound like her high school teachers’ unbearable droning, and she found herself zoning out. She caught bits and pieces here and there. Words like _intercostal_ and _thoracostomy_ floated in and out of her ears before she saw her sister change books and start talking about _tibias, fibulas,_ and the differences between ligaments in the ankle and the knee.

Somewhere in her zoning out, she noticed the time was approaching 11 am just as Dr. Valdez reentered the room. She had no hesitation in getting up to see meet the doctor halfway.

“Good morning, Wynonna.” She greeted.

“Morning.”

“Visiting hours rules,” the doctor handed her a pamphlet with instructions and regulations. “Right now, it’ll be just family allowed, two at a time in the room, okay?”

“Yeah, makes sense.” She nodded. “My sister, she’s not _technically_ Nicole’s family, but she’s the closest thing, is she able to come up with me?”

“Waverly Earp, right?” Dr. Valdez looked at her clipboard. Wynonna nodded again. “It looks like Nicole has listed her as family, as well as a Gus Gibson, Jeremy Chetri, Doc Holliday, Rosita Bustillos, Kate Cummings and a Randy Nedley, so they are all eligible to go up, as long as you all follow the two at a time rule.”

“Perfect, can Waverly and I go up now?”

“Of course. I’d be happy to bring the both of you up, if you want to grab your sister.”

Wynonna nodded and went over to pull Waverly away from her books, earning a confused grumble from the younger woman who had just gotten into a discussion about concussions—something that Vic and Shan finally seemed to know about.

The sisters followed the doctor along the path to the ICU, Waverly growing more and more silent as they drew nearer to the room. Wynonna could empathize with the change in demeanor, remembering her own intimidation at the unfamiliar environment.

Standing in front of the door, Wynonna squeezed her sister’s hand, seeing the nerves and anxiety painted all over the younger woman’s face. Waverly stood for a moment, gathering herself before she nodded to Wynonna for them to enter.

She entered first, already knowing what to expect, making her way to one of the seats beside the bed. It wasn’t easier to be here the second time around per se, but she wasn’t in as much shock as she was on her first visit. She heard a muffled squeak from the doorway, which she knew had come from Waverly. How Wynonna wished for her sister to pace the hallway or to ramble on and on about something from one of those books right about now, because she wasn’t sure anything could be worse than the look of destruction on Waverly’s face, intensifying as she stepped further into the room. She felt her heart shatter in a way she didn’t think possible anymore as she watched Waverly choke on silent sobs at the sight of her girlfriend in this condition.

This wasn’t _her_ Nicole; wasn’t anyone’s Nicole. Lying here broken and unconscious, silent and unimaginably vulnerable—that just wasn’t any way to imagine or describe Nicole Haught.

“Waves,” she stood to cross to the other side of the bed, embracing her sister in a tight hug hoping it would calm her down even a little bit.

“Wynonna, it’s not fair. This isn’t fair,” the younger Earp said, broken and muffled through sobs.

“I know it’s not, babygirl. I know.”

Another few minutes of tears passed before Waverly finally, determinedly took a deep breath. She wiped her eyes and pulled the chair near her closer to the bed, sitting in it. It looked like she did the same physical assessment that Wynonna had gone through, eyes focusing on the stitches on her face before migrating to the splinted leg and back to the tubes protruding from Nicole’s mouth and side. Wynonna was sure she heard Waverly mumble some medical mumbo-jumbo that she had just read about under her breath.

She took Nicole’s right hand in her own, looking her girlfriend with glassy eyes.

“You’ve got yourself in quite the mess now, haven’t you?” She mustered a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and a watery half-laugh. “You listen to me, and you listen to me good Nicole, you better wake your stupid, stubborn, cute-as-hell ass up because I need you with me. I love you, more than I ever thought possible, and I need you. And Wynonna, she needs you, no matter how much she’ll try to deny it,” she looked up at Wynonna who met her with a pained, tight-lipped smile and a short nod, “and you’ve got so many goals to score, and championships to win missy.”

Waverly brought the pale hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to Nicole’s knuckles, squeezing her eyes shut, allowing a tear to track down her cheek.

Dr. Valdez knocked on the door before entering, getting the attention of both sisters.

“We started to wean her off of the propofol about half an hour ago, so we’re hoping she’ll come around sometime before this evening. I’d like to check her vitals and oxygen sats to see if we can remove her from the ventilator shortly.” The Earp girls both nodded at the doctor’s explanation. “Her vitals have held steady overnight, which is good, but we’d hoped to see a little more improvement.”

Waverly chewed on her bottom lip nervously as the doctor spoke.

“I-is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily, her body has undergone a serious trauma, so there isn’t really a solid time clock we can put on her improvement or recovery.”

“Okay. What about her leg? Or her head?” Waverly asked. “Is there any new updates on those?”

“Nicole sustained a Grade 3 concussion. Her head CT was clear, there were no signs of bleeding or swelling, which again is good, but we won’t know about any long-term impacts on memory or motor function until she wakes up.” Well, Wynonna didn’t like the sound of that at all. She and her sister both knew that paralysis was always a possibility, but the uncertainty still hurt. “As for her leg, she sustained displaced fractures to the lower parts of both her tibia and fibula, hairline fractures to the lateral malleolus and cuboid bones, as well as partial tears to the anterior tibiofibular and calcaneofibular ligaments of her ankle and a complete tear in her anterior cruciate ligament, and sprains to the lateral collateral ligament and patellar tendon. We weren’t able to operate last night, but out goal is to do so in the morning if she continues to improve and remain stable.”

That was certainly a lot to take in. Some of those were words she recognized from Waverly’s anatomy crash course in the waiting room, but hearing them from a doctor mad them sound scarier. Wynonna knew it was a serious injury, but never did she realize so much could go wrong in one area.

“Okay, thank you Dr. Valdez,” Waverly said, clearing her throat, trying to stay strong, though Wynonna could see the tension rising in her sister’s chest.

“I’m really sorry it’s not great news, but it is an improvement from where she was last night.” 

The doctor excused herself, again leaving the sisters alone with Nicole.

Waverly looked at her girlfriend, squeezing her hand. Wynonna retook the seat on the left side of the bed.

“You just can’t do anything small, can ya Haught?” She teased the unconscious redhead.

“That’s my baby,” Waverly mused, now standing to place push a lock of red hair behind Nicole’s ear, placing a kiss to her forehead. “Always the overachiever.”


	18. Hey There, Pretty Brown Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a day early because I'm feeling merry!! Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!!

She’s not exactly sure how long she sits there, waiting. She knows it’s a while, judging by the way Wynonna, Gus, Doc, Nedley, Rosita, Kate and Jeremy have all come and gone, but exactly how long, Waverly can’t say. Not that she minds; she’d wait until the end of eternity and then some for Nicole Haught.

Part of her thought she might’ve been fine, seeing Nicole in whatever shape she was in, but reality was much harsher than her imagination and she was admittedly barely holding it together. How could she? Not when her girlfriend was attached to a machine breathing for her while another tube drained the blood out of her lungs.

It wasn’t fair; not in the slightest. Nicole worked so hard to get to where she was, her efforts paying off as evidenced by her performances in the regular season but especially in the playoffs. She was on pace to set even more records, and not just the rookie ones. Nicole was flying high up until that Jolene bitch came around and blew her right out of the sky like it was nothing. As far as Waverly knew, Jolene had escaped the scrum after the hit with just a black eye and a busted nose. She hadn’t wanted the woman to be hurt back, necessarily. (An eye for an eye does make the world go blind, after all). No, she just wanted some semblance of justice—equality even—in this situation. Maybe all Waverly really wanted was for Nicole not to be as bad off as she was.

A tap on her shoulder and a cup of coffee being placed right in her eye level broke her out of her thoughts.

“How’s the creepy staring going?” Wynonna teased, making sure she took the coffee. (Among other reasons, Waverly wanted Nicole to wake up so that she wouldn’t have to drink the sorry excuse for coffee that this place forced on them. To say it tasted like dirt diluted with lukewarm water would’ve been generous).

“It’s not creepy,” she pouted, “nor is it staring. I’m sitting at Nicole’s bedside because I care about her. Because I love her.”

“I know babygirl, I’m just…” Wynonna trailed off, resuming her seat across the bed, biting the inside of her cheek sadly.

“Yeah, I know.” Waverly understood. They both had their ways of avoiding their emotions. Waverly buried herself into anything that could keep her mind busy; Wynonna used jokes and humor as distraction. “Have you heard anything new from the doctors?”

“No, not really.” She said, eyes trained on Nicole’s face. “They’re gonna be kicking us out in about fifteen minutes though.”

Waverly looked up at the clock, seeing the time tick toward 4 pm. She had read over the pamphlet that Dr. Valdez provided them at least thirty times, trying to keep herself distracted. From 4 to 5 they’d have to be out of the room to allow the nurses to do their work, and allow the doctors to run any sort of test they may need. Waverly held onto the hope that Nicole would be awake by the time she was allowed back in the room. After all, Dr. Valdez _had_ said they were taking Nicole off the sedative and were hopeful she’d come around by the evening.

“You think she’ll wake up soon?” Wynonna asked when the silence overtook them. She’d always been good at sensing what Waverly was feeling, but she was starting to wonder if her sister had mind reading powers.

“I hope so.”

“She better,” Wynonna quipped, “we made a bet, and Wynonna Earp _always_ follows through on her bets.”

“Not exactly sure what she’ll be able to do with that $50, ‘Nonna.” She grumbled a little bit more bitterly than intended.

“Right.” Her sister mumbled, averting her eyes downward.

A tense silence fell between them again. She hadn’t meant to come off rude, but she could tell her sister had been a little hurt by her tone. The anxiety of the uncertainty was eating at them, emotions were high, the hospital coffee sucked and both of them had spent the night on arguably the _least_ comfortable chairs in the world.

Dr. Valdez’ gentle knock on the door informed them that they needed to leave the room for the next hour. She followed Wynonna back down to the waiting room, seeing their tight-knit crew taking up the corner of the room. The Devils, minus Powers and Finning, had gone home—which Waverly suspected Wynonna told them to do, seeing no need to take up everyone’s day and all the seats in the waiting room for a sleeping redhead. (If Waverly knew her sister, which she did, she probably said it exactly that way). One remained, off just outside the pack, which Waverly found odd.

“Wynonna,” she asked, getting her sister’s attention. Wynonna hummed in response, facing Waverly as they approached their seats. “How long has she been here?” She nodded over in the direction of the outlier. Last night Waverly hadn’t been any mindset to notice who was here and who wasn’t.

“The whole time.”

“She didn’t go home?”

“That is what I mean by _the whole time_.”

“Hmm,” Waverly considered this information. The woman hadn’t exactly been her favorite character in this narrative, but surely there had to be a reason she stayed when everyone else left.

She left Wynonna as she rejoined the group, walking over to one of the empty seats surrounding the woman sitting all alone.

“Hey, this seat taken?” She greeted, not sure how to approach this conversation.

“No, all yours.”

Waverly took the seat, but struggled to find words to say to the woman across from her. What _could_ she say? She hardly knew the woman, but couldn’t help but hate her. It wasn’t very _Nicest Person in Purgatory_ of her, she knew that.

“Why did you stay?” Had been her first thought, though she was thinking of a way to say that that didn’t come off rude or standoffish. The look on the woman’s face, however, told Waverly that she had said it aloud instead of just thinking it.

“I wanted to show I care. Like I told Wynonna, I know it’s not much, but I should probably start somewhere.”

“You wanted to show you care?” Waverly asked dryly, confused and maybe even a little taken aback. “You made my girlfriend’s life a living hell, Shae. I think it might take a little more than sitting at the hospital to make up for that.”

Shae didn’t look surprised by her tone in the slightest, almost like she’d been expecting it. She wondered if Wynonna had already laid into her last night. Maybe that was why she was nursing a black eye.

“And I get that, and you have every right to hate me. I’m not making excuses for the way I acted, all I want to do is do better going forward.”

Waverly crossed her arms, reading the captain’s face. She needed to decipher whether or not Shae meant what she was saying or if she was just saying what she thought Waverly would want to hear.

“You said that to Wynonna last night?”

“Mhm,” Shae nodded.

“And what did Wynonna say?”

“Wynonna was,” Shae paused to find the phrasing, “nicer than I thought she’d be about it. Actually said that it was in the _spirit of healing_ to focus on doing good going forward.”

Waverly furrowed her brow. That didn’t sound like her sister at all.

“Wynonna didn’t kick your ass?”

“No,” Shae laughed under her breath, “but I was expecting her to. Your reaction was more along the lines of what I thought might happen.”

Wynonna not choosing violence was one thing, but choosing peace? Maybe there was a mature bone in her body after all.

“So if my sister didn’t give you that,” she pointed to the shiner, “then who did?”

“Jolene.” She answered as if Waverly would understand. (Maybe she should’ve, but the rest of that game was a blur, and her memories of last night were spotty at best).

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t kn—”

“I was right there when it happened last night,” Shae started, “there was a mass scramble to get a piece of that bitch, but she was still on top of Haught—Nicole—and she was right in the way of the fight that was about to happen. I guess she got a good swing in as I pulled her out of the corner.”

“So you—”

“—She kicked the shit out of Jolene is what she did.” Wynonna jumped in, seemingly out of nowhere.

Waverly looked to Shae for any sort of confirmation, the woman shrugging her shoulders slightly.

“I wouldn’t say I kicked her ass, so much as I was defending a teammate.”

“Bull _shit_ ,” Wynonna said, slapping Shae lightly on the shoulder, “you threw your hands around like the best of them. Tie Domi would’ve been proud.”

Waverly pondered this. She couldn’t remember anything that happened around that scene last night other than seeing Nicole hit the wall and then the ice. She tried to think back, bring back her memories of the scene. She knew there had been an altercation, but hadn’t been able to register who was involved.

On her phone, Wynonna had video of the fight. She started it just after Nicole had been hit, and even though she hadn’t seen it again, Waverly cringed at the mere mention of it. Waverly watched the captain sprint in, grab Jolene by the collar of her jersey and pull her off of her girlfriend lying motionless in the corner. She saw where Jolene swung on Shae, the winger taken aback for a split second before shaking her own gloves off and socking her opponent square in the face. The Devils’ captain landed a few big haymakers in fairly rapid succession before taking Jolene down to the ice, skating away from the scene, pure rage on her face, but also concern. Even after the fight, Shae had been directing the players away from Nicole in the corner, a level of protection that Waverly wasn’t sure the captain was capable of showing.

“Thank you,” Waverly said after a beat. “You protected her, so thank you.”

Something in her told her that Shae’s actions weren’t for show, or even to fulfill a duty as captain, but were done out of actual caring. She decided that if Wynonna had changed her opinion on the woman so quickly and so easily, then it had been for good reason. While all wasn’t forgiven just like that, Waverly decided that not hating Shae could be a good first step.

Shae nodded her head.

Waverly bit the inside of her cheek, looking past Shae, back to Doc, Nedley, Shan and Vic across the room. In the spirit of healing (Wynonna’s words, _apparently_ ), she decided to take another step.

“Shae, do you maybe wanna join the group over there?” She motioned toward the others. Shae looked surprised at the invitation. “We’re all here for the same reason, no sense in sitting alone. Plus, company’s good for the sanity, that’s what Gus always says.”

Shae glanced between the two sisters, Wynonna nodding her approval before she finally agreed. The three of them stood and crossed over to the circle of friends in the middle of the waiting room. Shan and Vic eyed the woman curiously as she approached, but Wynonna was quick to defuse their suspicion. Nedley welcomed his captain to their powwow. Any awkwardness or objection to the controversial figure that was Shae Pressman was concealed well, and the group sat, making small talk as they waited for news, Waverly and Wynonna waiting for 5 o’clock so that they could return to Nicole’s bedside.

“Hey, where’d Gus go?” Wynonna asked, noticing the absence of her aunt.

“Said she had to run back home right quick,” Nedley explained, “Shower, get some fresh clothes I reckon.”

Her sister nodded, though Waverly knew Wynonna would probably text Gus and tell her not to worry about rushing back for the night. God knows that woman was a saint for spending the night with them in the hospital for a girl who wasn’t even her blood.

“I oughtta head out,” Nedley said, standing up. “Make sure that cat of hers is fed.”

Waverly knew that even though Nedley would say he hated that cat, he secretly loved Calamity Jane. She found it endearing that Nedley would go above and beyond the duty of coach to make sure that he could do something to help Nicole out.

Sometime shortly thereafter, Waverly watched Dolls strut in, stick up his ass looking bigger than usual, headed straight for the nurse at the desk. When the nurse stood up, peered over the desk and then pointed in their direction, Waverly couldn’t help but wonder _what the hell he could possibly want._

“Waverly, Wynonna, I need to speak with you two,” he addressed them, hardly looking away from his phone, which had been buzzing pretty much nonstop.

Wynonna stood, following the GM, Waverly lock-in-step behind her.

“What do you need to talk about, big man?” Wynonna asked once they were secluded enough.

“I think we should put out a statement,” Dolls said bluntly. “Appease the media, get them off our backs.”

On the list of things Waverly was worried about right now, _appeasing the media_ was so far at the bottom it may as well not even be on the list at all. She couldn’t quite find any scenario in which she gave a rat’s ass what the media thought; didn’t quite care if they wanted a scrap of information to beat to death on the nightly news. There were bigger, more important things to worry about.

“With all due respect, I don’t really care what the media wants,” she responded, just as bluntly as Dolls had been. The executive quirked an eyebrow at her, surprised at the way Waverly had addressed him, silencing a phone call he was getting.

“Right, but they’re not really taking whether or not you care into consideration. They’re gonna get what they want, even if they’ve got to push and pry to do it,” Dolls countered. “You’re friends with that kid from the paper aren’t you. What’s his name, Jimmy? Jackson? Jethro?”

“Jeremy.” She said flatly, rolling her eyes.

“Right, either way. Haven’t you seen him doing whatever he could to get his stories?”

“Well yeah,” Waverly conceded begrudgingly. “But he’s not right now, because Nicole’s his _friend_. And he cares, which I thought you might too, considering she’s one of _your_ players.”

“I do care,” Dolls rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Believe me, as far as players go, Nicole’s one of the nicest ones I’ve worked with. But at the end of the day, it’s my job to protect every single member of this team and to deal with the media image of this club.”

“Okay, but she’s a person too. With friends and family that _care_ about her. Those reporters out there are just looking for their paycheck while she’s lying unconscious in a hospital bed. I don’t really care about _appeasing_ the media just so they can play the same sixty-second soundbite on repeat for the next three weeks.”

“Look, the media are vultures; they’re all but beating down that hospital door as we speak.” Dolls explained, his phone ringing yet again. He looked down to see who it was, holding up the screen to show the sisters. “Vance Kerr, CEWHL Network. You wanna guess how many times he’s called me today trying to get a story?” Wynonna shook her head; Waverly couldn’t really bring herself to care. “Just hear me out, we can put out a vague statement—say Nicole’s sustained a lower body injury and is waiting further assessment. Not much, but enough to get us some breathing room.”

“Babygirl,” Wynonna looked at her with a big-sisterly look on her face, “getting the media to go away now will be one less thing we have to worry about when Nicole wakes up. Vic and Shan said they were mobbed leaving last night and coming in again this morning, don’t you think that’s a headache we should avoid?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She sighed, knowing it was for the best. Wynonna was being oddly mature over the last day or so, and Waverly decided to roll with it. (They _were_ decisions she would’ve made on her own if she were in her right mind anyway). “Go ahead, do the statement, but keep it vague, and make it clear that we want our privacy, please.”

Dolls nodded, already furiously typing away, leaving the lobby and the sisters alone.

“You’d think he’d show some sort of sympathy,” Waverly grumbled as they returned to the group yet again.

“I don’t think they programmed him with that capability,” Wynonna cracked. “Maybe it’ll come with his next software update.”

“Dolls doesn’t have the emotional storage for that sort of update,” Powers chimed in, hearing Wynonna’s comment.

Waverly might’ve laughed, but an announcement over the loudspeaker had taken up all of her attention.

_“Dr. Gloria Valdez to room 414. Dr. Gloria Valdez, 414.”_

That was Nicole’s room. Why would they page Dr. Valdez to Nicole’s room? Had something gone wrong? Or was it a good thing—had Nicole woken up? They all looked around at each other, silently wondering what could be going on up there. Moments later, another announcement came over the speaker.

_“Code blue, ICU. Code blue, ICU.”_

Her heart dropped to the floor, her chest tightening with the anxiety. Some (not insignificant) part of her figured that it had to be Nicole, and her world started to blur around the edges. It couldn’t be her. She couldn’t be dying. She _had_ to be okay. But, they’d called her doctor to her room, and then there was a code blue called, and Waverly couldn’t logically dismiss it as a coincidence.

“It’s the ICU, there’s a lot of sick patients up there. We don’t know it’s her.” She felt a hand on her shoulder, Shae of all people trying to comfort her. She appreciated the gesture, but wouldn’t believe it until she saw it with her own two eyes.

\---

** PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS OFFICIAL STATEMENT **

**[PURGATORY, AB]—** Purgatory Blue Devils center Nicole Haught sustained lower and upper body injuries and is currently in stable condition as she recovers. We will continue to monitor the situation, but the family requests full privacy from the media as Nicole continues her recovery. This will be the only statement on this matter.

The team will continue with its preparations for the second round of the playoffs as scheduled. Game 1 against the Prince Albert Rangers will be played Friday, April 26 at the Wyatt Earp Memorial Coliseum at 7 PM MST.

\---

** CEWHL DEPARTMENT OF PLAYER SAFETY **

**[OTTAWA, ON]—** The Department of Player Safety has ruled today (Tuesday, April 23) to suspend Brandon Bobcats’ center, Jolene DiMoni, for her hit on Purgatory Blue Devils forward, Nicole Haught. The incident occurred with 9:21 remaining in the third period of Game 7 on Monday night. DiMoni was charged with a 2-minute minor penalty for boarding, a game misconduct penalty, and also a 5-minute major for fighting in a subsequent altercation with Blue Devils’ captain, Shae Pressman.

DiMoni, a repeat offender, will serve a 41-game (half-season) suspension starting at the beginning of the upcoming regular season, and will additionally be fined $7,500 for the infraction.

\---

The first time Nicole wakes up, it’s less than ideal.

It had taken all the restraint in the world not to sprint upstairs the second the clock struck five. She’d wanted to see what was going on one way or another, but also realized that this was a hospital, and some level of decorum was necessary. People were trying to heal after all.

She broke into a slight jog past Wynonna as they reached the fourth floor, skidding to a halt just outside 414. With the door closed, she braced herself for whatever would be waiting for her behind it. The last half hour or so had sent her anxiety through the roof, though she took the fact that Dr. Valdez hadn’t come to see them as a good sign. She pushed her way into the room, breathing a sigh of relief that there hadn’t been a swarm of doctors or a dying Nicole inside. (Maybe she had overreacted just a bit when she heard the call come over the intercom downstairs). 

She had the slimmest of hopes that Nicole would be awake; slightly bigger ones that the breathing tube would’ve been taken out at the very least. Unfortunately, neither had been the case. She struggled to hide the disappointment on her face as she took her seat near the bed. Wynonna followed, muttering a, “What the hell, Haught?” from the doorway, obviously expecting to see Nicole had come around.

Waverly clasped Nicole’s hand in hers, taking the slightest of comforts in the fact it was the _tiniest_ bit warmer than it had been earlier that morning. She decided she needed to take a look at the positives. Sure, Nicole had still been on the ventilator, but the number of tubes in her body had decreased by at least one—the chest tube draining the blood from her lung must’ve been removed while they were gone. For another thing, her girlfriend’s face had started to take on a bit of color, a slight pinkish hue replacing the deathly pale it had been before.

“I know you’re disappointed that we couldn’t remove the tube,” a nurse said, entering the room. She’d recognized her from the few check-ins she’d done throughout the day. Waverly’s fairly sure her name is Joria, but can’t say with complete certainty. She’s a young nurse, not much older than Nicole or herself, and she has an air of kindness about her that’s soothing—at least from the few interactions she’s had with her.

“Only a little,” Wynonna sighed, pushing her chair away from the bed to allow the nurse access to the nearly empty bag of clear liquid hanging on a stand next to Nicole.

“Dr. V says her sats just weren’t good enough to do it yet,” the nurse (whose name Waverly sees _is_ in fact Joria) says as she exchanges the old bag for a new, fuller one.

“Do you know why she was paged to this room before?” Waverly asked, still curious as to what happened then.

“She was running a slight fever,” Joria explained, “we needed her to decide if it was something to worry about, determine the next course of action.”

“Was it?” She questioned, hoping it wasn’t. The fever would explain the increased warmth in Nicole’s hands and the pinkness in her face. Upon closer look, she did notice the tips of her ears had taken on a similar coloration. “Something to worry about, I mean.”

“We’re keeping an eye on it,” the nurse said with a smile and a small wave of her hand, “Dr. V wants to make sure it’s not an infection. She’ll be the first to let you know if it’s anything serious, I promise.”

On the list of all the bad things that Waverly imagined it could’ve been, she supposed a slight fever was an optimal scenario.

“Okay, thank you.” She sighed, relieved, noticing some of the tension leave her sister’s jaw at the explanation.

“Of course,” Joria said with a smile, “Oh, look. Dr. Valdez we were just talking about you!”

“All good things I hope, Jor,” the doctor said, making entrance through the doorway.

“Of course, I only bad mouth you to the other nurses—never to the patients or the families.” The nurse teased before excusing herself to continue making her rounds.

“She’s one of the good ones,” Dr. Valdez grinned; the Earp sisters nodding in agreement. “I’m just rotating around the floor, but do you guys have any questions for me? I’m sure Joria already told you Nicole started running a fever a little while ago.”

“Yeah, I was wondering why she hasn’t woken up yet,” Wynonna spoke up. “I mean, you pulled her off the meds this morning, so shouldn’t she have woken up by now?”

“You know, head injuries are always tough. There’s not really a hard schedule you can put on them. The brain’s a tricky organ.”

“What if there was more than one injury?” Waverly asked, remembering that Nicole most likely had a concussion even before she had her head driven into the boards.

“Well, that would certainly play into it.” Dr. Valdez considered the information. “Do you suspect there was multiple impacts in the hit?”

“I’m not sure about that, but I think she might’ve been playing with a concussion before the incident.”

“Mhm,” the woman nodded, “do you have any details?”

“She took an elbow to the head in the second period.” Waverly explained. “She was slow to get up, and then she had delayed reactions, and she looked a little woozy. I don’t think anyone else saw it because no one stopped her, but I could tell something was off.”

“That does sound like a concussion,” Dr. Valdez confirmed. “Multiple impacts could contribute to her not waking up as quickly. I can take a look at her CTs, but there weren’t any indications of bleeding or swelling. We may need to do a repeat scan if she doesn’t come to within the next couple of hours.”

The sisters nodded, and not having any other questions, Dr. Valdez left them to be with Nicole yet again. She’d gotten her answer about Nicole’s second period concussion, but the possible implications of that didn’t make her feel any better.

She turned back to Nicole, who was oblivious to the world. Waverly knew she was on a lot of drugs to kill her pain, but she still shuddered to think that her girlfriend may have been hurting. She couldn’t imagine what she’d feel once she finally did wake up and the drugs wore off. Waverly had fallen off the top bunk of her and Wynonna’s bunkbed when she was six, merely bruising her ribs, and she’d cried for hours and it hurt like a bitch, so she couldn’t imagine the pain of breaking the bones—the last number she’d heard was _five_ broken ribs—or the puncturing and collapse of a lung on top of that. (Never mind the broken leg bones and torn ligaments). She couldn’t imagine a painkiller that could be strong enough to numb that kind of excruciating pain. Her heart clenched at the thought of Nicole being in any kind of pain, especially when there wasn’t anything she could do to help.

“I can’t _believe_ Doc would let her play with a concussion like that.” Wynonna said incredulously, not believing the staff could miss something so serious. “Is that why she was losing those faceoffs so badly?” Waverly nodded. “I _knew_ something was off, she’s kind of a faceoff wizard—I mean, she’s no me, but then again, who is?”

(Leave it to Wynonna to make it about her no matter the situation).

Waverly rolled her eyes playfully, but a verbal response was interrupted by what she thought was a twitching of fingers in her hand. She snapped her eyes to Nicole’s hand in hers, not seeing any motion. Maybe she’d been imagining it. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

Or maybe it wasn’t. Not when she felt it again moments later, this time completely certain it had happened.

Her joy was short-lived, however.

Following the twitch of her hand was a scrunching of her face, and then coughing followed by choking, spluttering, and panicking. The monitor next to the bed that previously had been beeping rhythmically starting to wail frantically, Nicole’s body reacting to a foreign object impeding her ability to breath.

Waverly sprang to her feet, running out into the hall to call for anyone who could help, Wynonna standing over the bed, rambling— _“What’s going on? What’s happening? Someone help her!”_

Joria hurried in, followed by two other nurses and Dr. Valdez. They directed the sisters away from Nicole’s bed to allow them to do what they needed to do to help her. Waverly watched with a racing heart, catching a glimpse of Nicole’s eyes, open wide, frantically looking around the room, terrified. She really wished she could’ve been the first thing her girlfriend saw when she awoke. A warm, welcoming, gentle face to peacefully welcome her back to consciousness. Instead, Nicole woke to a tube in her throat, the inability to breathe properly and a mob of unfamiliar people working around her.

Dr. Valdez and her team struggled to get Nicole to calm down, even after they removed the breathing tube. Waverly could see that the doctor was worried about Nicole exacerbating her injuries the longer that she struggled and couldn’t relax. Until she saw Joria hand Dr. Valdez a syringe of something, that was. The woman injected the contents of the needle into one of Nicole’s IVs, and within seconds, the machine’s violent blaring had returned to its steady beeping and Nicole’s eyes were closed again.

“The good news is, she’s breathing on her own,” Doctor Valdez explained once the scene had calmed down. “Unfortunately, fighting the intubation caused a panic reaction—which isn’t uncommon—and we had to administer a light sedative to get her vitals back under control.”

“So, it’s gonna be a little while longer before she wakes up then?” Wynonna asked, calmed down herself, now with a hint of dejection in her tone. The doctor just nodded sympathetically.

\---

The second time Nicole wakes up, it’s just before visiting hours are over and Waverly and Wynonna have to leave the room.

It’s just about five minutes to 7, Waverly yawns, stretching her arms to relieve some of the tension from her muscles. Wynonna’s fallen asleep in her seat, the events of the last 24 or so hours taking its toll.

“Mmm,” she hears a murmur from the direction of the bed, but dismissed it as Wynonna. She knows she should wake her sister because they have to leave soon, but doesn’t want to deal with the consequences—that girl could be a _bear_ in the morning. “Mmm,” she hears the murmur again, and looks to Nicole’s face. She can see her girlfriend trying to pry her eyelids open, the drugs probably working wonders to make them as heavy as humanly possible.

Waverly stood up to be closer to Nicole.

“Hey, it’s me, can you hear me?” A few more soft murmurs follow, but Waverly can see Nicole’s efforts to wake up slowly start to pay off. “C’mon baby, you can do it, just open your eyes for me.”

Her requests appear to be answered, soft brown eyes cracking open ever so slightly, eyelids drooping heavily as they close again briefly. Waverly squeezed her hand again, prodding the redhead awake. The next time Nicole’s eyes open, they stay that way.

Waverly can’t hide the joy that she feels seeing her girlfriend conscious again. Small happy tears bead up along her eye line. Nicole furrows her brow and groans, pouting slightly.

“Nicole, can you hear me?” Waverly tries again. The girl in bed tried to nod, but realized that it _hurts,_ wincing and squeezing her eyes shut momentarily.

When Nicole finally makes eye contact with Waverly for the first time, there’s a spaced-out smile that graces her lips.

“Pretty,” she slurred, voice raspy from having a tube down her throat. Waverly can’t do anything to fight the blush. Even incoherent, Nicole gave her butterflies.

Said girl, still very much (adorably) out of it, appeared to have discovered the oxygen cannula attached to her nose, pulling at the tubing curiously.

“Hmm, what’s this thing do?” Nicole drawled, giggling drowsily as she pulled the plastic tubes from her nose. “Oops.”

“Okay, silly,” Waverly rolled her eyes playfully, “I think that Dr. Valdez might need you to keep this on.” Nicole tilted her head gently, reminiscent of a puppy, but eventually allowed Waverly to replace the object on her face.

“Thank you.” The redhead smiled. “You’re pretty. And nice…oh and pretty too.”

“Nicole do you know where you are?” Waverly tried to assess, working past the blush (again) that her girlfriend was so good at bringing out of her. It was a little like trying to talk to a kindergartner after they’ve woken up from a nap; Nicole’s eyes dancing curiously around the room at all the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Mmm, no.” She frowned. “Kinda looks like a hops—a hosp—a _hopsital_.”

Waverly smiled as she suppressed a soft chuckle at the mix-up in syllables.

“It is.” She confirmed; Nicole’s eyes lit up with pride in getting the answer right. “Do you remember how you got here?”

“No, not really.”

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

Without missing a beat, Nicole responds, smirking as she says it:

“Waverly Earp, smiling at me from between the benches.” Waverly couldn’t keep the happy tears back. Of _course_ Nicole’s first thought after a serious injury would be to put her charm to good use, flirting with a girl who was so obviously hers already. “Hey, you kind of look like her, you know that?”

The happiness had dampened a bit. She quirked an eyebrow, figuring Nicole was playing around, but Nicole looked completely serious.

“Do I now?”

“Mhm,” Nicole hummed, “Waverly’s sooooo pretty, and I like her _so much_. She’s so smart—like a genius, and so funny, and pretty. Too bad she’ll never like me back.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” Waverly countered, playing along. She wished she were recording this interaction so she could tease Nicole over it later. (It’s what the Wynonna in her would want).

“No, really,” she slurred, “Waverly’s got this boyfriend, _Champ_ —more like _Chump_ , I’d say—and he doesn’t treat her like she deserves, but she’ll stay with him because she doesn’t know I’d treat her _so_ much better, and she probably doesn’t want to hurt his feelings, she’s too nice.” While she didn’t like that Nicole had seemingly forgotten that they’d been dating for six months, Waverly smiled at the way the girl spoke, no matter how incoherent it may have been. “She’s so nice, Waverly’s the nicest person in Purgatory—really, the town voted. She’s got a sash and everything.”

“This Waverly sounds amazing,” Waverly spoke of herself to Nicole.

“She’s the _amazingest_.”

“Do you wanna know what I think?” She asked, having a little more fun with this now.

“What?” 

“I think you should give it a shot with that girl—”

“—Waverly Earp.”

“With _Waverly Earp_ ,” she chuckled, “I mean, if you like her so much, what’s the harm in asking? Maybe a date. I bet she’d drop that boy for you if you asked. You could take her skating. I bet a girl like that would love skating.”

“She does.” Nicole said matter-of-factly (as matter-of-factly as a drunk kindergartner could sound). “She skated with me one time before a game—but then Dolls busted us for playing tag.”

“See, so you should definitely give it a shot. Ask her out.”

“But what if she doesn’t like me back? What if she doesn’t say yes?” Nicole said, frowning deeply at the thought. Waverly spotted the adorable worry wrinkle almost immediately.

“Oh, I’ve got a good feeling she will.” Nicole’s frown flipped almost immediately, being replaced by a dopey lovestruck smile. “And if she’s stupid enough to say no—”

“—Oh Waverly’s not stupid,” Nicole half-scolded, “She’s the smartest, most genius person I know.”

“Right, sorry,” Waverly corrected herself, “but if you ask her and she says no, you know I’d always say yes.”

“Thanks, but I don’t really know you, even if you do look _a lot_ like her,” her girlfriend noted, “I’ve only got eyes for one angel.”

Waverly smiled, toying with the angel wing necklace Nicole had gotten her for Christmas.

“That girl’s gonna say yes, you know. You’re very charming.”

“You know, you’re nice, just like Waverly.” Nicole hummed, her eyelids drooping more and more by the second. “And pretty too, like her…” Waverly could tell Nicole was teetering on the edge of consciousness, and that their conversation would be ending shortly. “So, so pretty.” Nicole closed her eyes, and for a moment, Waverly thought she may have fallen back to sleep. “I’m tired,” the redhead said through a yawn.

“Go ahead, go to sleep,” Waverly squeezed her hand, “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Nicole was out like a light pretty much immediately after that.

Wynonna groaned, waking up in the seat beside her, stretching her arms and not knowing she’d missed Nicole waking up.

Dr. Valdez knocked on the door, informing them that visiting time was up, but sensed that something had happened moments before.

“Anything new happen?” She asked.

“Nicole woke up, but she was pretty out of it,” Waverly explained, Wynonna eyed her curiously, disappointment on her face that she’d missed it. “She just fell back asleep though.”

“Not surprising,” the doctor acknowledged. “There’s still a lot of meds in her system. How long was she awake?”

“Eight-ish minutes? Maybe ten at the most.”

“Was she communicative? Were you able to talk with her?”

“It was like talking to a drunk person, but yeah.” Waverly nodded. “Is that a good thing?”

“Was she able to follow the conversation, respond to questions?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, then,” Dr. Valdez paused, “I’d say that’s a great thing. We’ll assess in the morning, or when she wakes up again, but it’s a very positive sign.”

Waverly’s cheeks hurt from smiling from the time that they left Dr. Valdez, to the time they let the others in the waiting room know the good news, and all the way throughout the ride back to the homestead in Wynonna’s truck.

Nicole was nowhere near completely out of the woods, but Waverly took comfort in the new positive development in her condition. Now that her girlfriend had woken up, she felt better about letting Wynonna convince her to leave the hospital to get an actual night’s sleep. She’d be much more suited to support Nicole’s recovery after getting to sleep in her own bed and drinking an actual cup of coffee.

Waverly practically skipped up the walk to the front door to the home, giddy with the excitement over the events of today. She may have been choosing to ignore the fact that her girlfriend had forgotten the last six months of their relationship, but it was only because Nicole was so adorable in the way she talked about her. Waverly had known that Nicole had a big ol’ crush on her before they started dating, but she hadn’t really stopped to think about how the girl felt about the possibility of the feeling not being mutual. Hearing Nicole speak today made her realize just how deeply in love the redhead was with her; the fear of losing Nicole that Waverly had felt since she saw her collapse to the ice made Waverly realize that she was just as impossibly in love with the girl.

The comfort of home worked wonders to draw the true fatigue right out of her body, Waverly unable to keep her eyes open past 9:30 pm. She went through her nighttime routine, going to the closet after brushing her teeth to find a navy-blue hoodie that smelled like her favorite hockey player (favorite person, really), before crawling under the covers and sleeping soundly in the hoodie that had kicked off her and Nicole’s story.


	19. The Road to Recovery is Paved with Good Conversation

Nicole had never felt more like death.

Like serious, actual death. Like kick the bucket, six feet under, dirt nap death.

Every single inch of her body ached and she couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried, open her eyes. Her eyelids were impossibly heavy, and her throat burned, all kinds of scratchy from…well, she wasn’t quite sure why, but it felt like she’d swallowed a pack or razor blades. She tried to move, just her neck at first, but quickly realized that it _was,_ in fact, possible for her pain to get worse. Her head throbbed, worse than the morning after one of the few college parties she had actually attended, but why? Why did her head hurt _so_ much? Why did _everything_ hurt? And why couldn’t she open her damn eyes?

She settled on the only logical conclusion. She, Nicole Rayleigh Haught, was dead.

Now the only question was she in heaven, or had she been sent to hell?

There was a weird floatiness and that she felt (sort of like coming out of anesthesia after getting your wisdom teeth out), and the faint scent of a familiar perfume, that told her maybe she was in heaven. But, judging by the amount of pain she was feeling, maybe she was in hell after all. (That would mean that all those bigots she tried to ignore and prove wrong would actually be right, which would’ve been worse than actually being sent to hell. Oh well, she thought, maybe she’d just haunt them).

She knew there was only one way to know for sure. If she could just open her damn eyes.

_Come on Haught_ , she prodded herself, _come on, just open your eyes. You’ve been doing it every day for twenty-three years._

She could feel her brow furrow, the muscles around her eyelids fighting her attempts. She pushed harder, mind working double-time to push the lids open, until suddenly she felt them lighten slightly, and then the action gradually became easier until…

_Okay, ouch. Wow that’s bright. Wait—bright and white. Maybe she was going to heaven after all. She figured she was an okay enough person anyway, so it made sense._

She squinted at the source of the light, hoping for it to eventually dim and she could find herself in heaven. Maybe she’d run into an old hockey hero of hers, or that cast of the _Golden Girls._ But, if she was actually in heaven, the first thing she’d do was find her aunt and uncle and they could talk and catch each other up on everything they’ve missed over the last five years. She decided that maybe heaven wasn’t going to be all that bad. Sure she’d miss her life, and playing hockey, and the Earps—obviously Waverly (she felt her heart clench at the thought that she’d quite possibly left the love of her life behind), but weirdly Wynonna too—but if she had to be dead, at least heaven had some perks.

The light dimmed, and the room she was in slowly came into focus.

_Weird_ , she thought, _heaven looked a lot like a hospital room._

She tried to look around again, but seemed to have forgotten how much that hurt.

“Ow.” She muttered, voice raspier than she would’ve liked.

She heard some sort of movement from beside her, but couldn’t see the source and _really_ didn’t want to hurt her neck more to find out.

Lucky for her, the culprit moved again, and spoke this time.

“Woah,” she heard. Nicole would know that voice anywhere. “Hiya Red!”

_If_ she _was here, then there was no maybe about it—Nicole was in hell. Definitely, one hundred percent, without a shadow of a doubt, hell._

“Ow,” she repeated, all she could manage to say apparently, her brain still feeling weirdly groggy. Wynonna entered her vision from beside her. Why the woman had to be so loud, she’d never know. “Loud.”

“Oh, right,” Wynonna’s face showed the realization of her volume, now whispering, “sorry.”

“The light…bright.” She complained, squeezing her eyes back shut to alleviate the thundering in her head, hating the way her voice sounded slow and weak; raspier than she would’ve like too.

She heard what she could only assume was Wynonna shuffling across the room, pulling the curtains closed, and suddenly the blinding pain dulled to a slightly less than unbearable aching.

She used her eyes to scan as much of her surroundings as she could without moving her head, questions forming in her mind—how did she get there? Had it been doing something stupid with Wynonna? (Probably). If it _had_ been something with Wynonna, why wasn’t _she_ also in a hospital bed? Most importantly, where was Waverly?

“Waverly?” She asked, still scanning the room.

“She’s gonna be so pissed she’s not here right now,” Wynonna told her. “She should be back soon. She had to run to the rink, show Mercedes the ropes.”

“Mercedes?” She asked, skeptical but mostly confused.

“The Gardners volunteered to help take care of some rink duties while Waverly and I were here with you.” Nicole rolled her eyes, knowing that that was a disaster waiting to happen, wincing at the pain it sent right behind her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, Haught— _It’s gonna be a total dumpster fire._ Yeah, I know.” Wynonna chuckled, reading Nicole’s body language.

“What happened?” She tried a response that was longer than a syllable or two. “Why am I here?”

Wynonna looked at her seriously, calculating what she should say next.

“What do you remember?”

She thought for a moment. She remembered Brandon, an airport, Jolene telling her to watch her back, the conversation with Sherriff in his office before game seven and vaguely the beginning of the game, but anything after that was hazy at best.

“We were at the game. You and I made a bet, I think.” She said, her throat still scratchy, taking more than forever to get the words out. _(Why was she oddly winded from a few short sentences?)_ Wynonna nodded. Nicole swallowed painfully and continued. “Wynonna, did something happen at the game?”

The woman next to her looked like she was having some sort of war flashbacks, taking more than a beat to compose her thoughts into an answer. Nicole inferred from her reaction that something _had_ happened at the game, but now she _really_ wanted to know what could’ve been so bad to land her in the hospital.

“Uh…yeah, kinda,” Wynonna scratched at the back of her neck. “You kinda got crunched into the boards, and kinda sorta got knocked unconscious and broke your leg.” Nicole looked down to her right leg, splinted in a soft cast. Well at least that explained the pain that started in her knee and radiated down to her ankle. “Total cheap shot though—that bitch grabbed you by the collar and then plowed you into the wall all defenseless and shit.”

She’d been grateful (she admits begrudgingly) for Wynonna’s inability to beat around the bush with anything. Nicole cringed at the thought of the hit, but figured she should get around to _seeing_ what happened at some point.

“Wynonna?”

“Yeah?”

“How long was I out?”

“You were out the whole night Monday night after the hit, and most of yesterday.”

“So, it’s Wednesday then?” She asked; Wynonna confirmed. “Did you get to see who hit me?”

“Mhm,” Wynonna nodded.

“Was it Jolene?”

“Yeah, how did yo—did you remember more from the game?” The brunette looked at her, surprised.

“No, I just had a feeling,” Nicole said, “she confronted me in the airport bathroom after game six, I think it was…She told me that they had to _eliminate the threat_ …should _watch my back_. Just putting two-and-two together.”

“Jesus Christ, Haught.” Wynonna said incredulously. “I was only kidding when I said you should watch out so you wouldn’t get kneecapped in a back alley, but _holy shit_. The Swamp Witch actually put a hit out on you.”

The two laughed softly, sharing the unbelievable nature of the story.

“Did we at least win?” She asked once she’d caught her breath, winded yet again by something so small as a half of a laugh.

In the grand scheme of things, she supposed it wasn’t all that important, but the competitor in her wanted to know.

“Yeah, your team’s at practice right now, actually; getting ready for the second round.” The woman beside her explained. “They were all here, right after it happened.”

“All of them?” she asked.

“They wanted to stay the night, until you were good.” Wynonna said as she nodded her response to Nicole’s question.

“You didn’t let them stay on uncomfortable hospital chairs overnight, did you?” She hoped that Wynonna had had the sense to send them home.

“No, but they fought me on it.” ( _Good_ , she thought to herself. There was no need for them to ruin their backs or waste their time in a hospital waiting room for little ol’ her). “Vic and Shan stayed after most of them left,” Wynonna told her. She figured that if anyone would’ve stayed it would’ve been those two anyway. “But…you should probably talk to Shae.”

“Why?” She furrowed her brow. Last she remembered, the captain couldn’t stand her. Why on earth would she need to talk to that woman?

“Just, whenever you see her, you should let her talk.” Wynonna nodded knowingly, but didn’t give further explanation.

The door to the room creaked open, and Nicole heard the gasp before she even saw Waverly standing in the doorway.

“Oh my god!” She yelled, sending another shock through Nicole’s head. She guessed it was just an Earp thing. Waverly all but ran across the room to the bed, depositing the tray of coffees onto a table beside Wynonna. “You’re awake. You’re actually awake, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so. Kinda feel like I might be dead though.” She tried to joke, but even the smallest of chuckles sent ripples of fiery pain all long her right side. “Ow,” she grimaced.

“Don’t joke about that, Nicole,” Waverly scolded her. The look on both the Earps’ faces telling her that whatever she’d been through was no laughing matter.

“Sorry.”

“No, god, no it’s okay. I’m just happy to see your big, beautiful brown eyes.”

“I love you, Waverly Earp.”

She saw Waverly pause at her words, taking in a sharp breath and shifting her eyes toward Wynonna. What, had she said something wrong? Had she missed something? Clearly she must have.

“Y-you remember. You remember me? Us, right? You remember.”

“Of course I do Waves, why wouldn’t I?”

“Last night when you woke up,” Waverly started, clasping her hand in hers. She didn’t even remember waking up last night at all, though she would’ve loved to know that Waverly was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes. “You were really, really out of it,” her girlfriend said with a watery laugh, “and you were all sad because _Waverly Earp_ had a boyfriend and would never like you back. I thought it was funny at first because you were all drugged up still, but then I got to thinking what if it was something serious? It was like you forgot the last six months ever even happened. You kept telling me all about the things you loved about this girl, but didn’t recognize me—you said I looked _just like_ Waverly Earp.”

“Oh god, baby,” she smiled at her, trying to raise her hand to reach up to Waverly’s face but putting it back down when she realized that the strain also pulled on her aching ribs. “I could _never_ forget you. I promise.” Waverly’s smile, already her favorite thing, lit up her entire mood, and she _swore_ that for a millisecond, it took all of her aching and throbbing and pains away. “Waves?” She asked after a moment of shared smiles.

“Yeah?”

“I wanna kiss you real bad right now…but I can’t exactly move without…feeling like someone’s taking a flamethrower to my entire body,” she flashed her a smile, though she was sure her face showed just how much pain she was in. “How ‘bout you come meet me halfway?”

Waverly didn’t miss a beat, lowering herself to capture Nicole’s lips. Nicole found it odd that Wynonna didn’t scoff or gag or make some kind of comment about PDA, but she was too happy to be kissing her girlfriend to really care. She’d endured enough _Wynonna Interruptus_ over the last six months and wanted to enjoy this moment.

However, a sharp knock on the door interrupted them nonetheless.

“Good morning—or should I say afternoon?” A woman in a white coat entered the room with a clipboard, looking at her watch to see it was just past twelve o’clock If she were a betting woman (which apparently she was, based on the number of times she allowed herself to be drawn into bets with Wynonna), Nicole would say that this woman was her doctor. “Was nobody going to tell me that Nicole was awake?” The doctor had a joking tone in her voice, actually looking pleased to see that she had woken up. She crossed the room over to the bed, the sisters allowing her access. “Hi Nicole, nice of you to join us. I’m Dr. Valdez.”

“Hi,” she said, not bothering to nod.

“I’m just going to do a quick assessment okay, and then you can ask me any questions you might have, sound good?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, good. First off, I’m sure you know this, but can you tell me your name?”

“Nicole Haught. Nicole Rayleigh Haught.”

“Good,” Dr. Valdez said. “And do you know where you are?”

“Hospital. Not sure which one.”

“Northern Memorial,” the doctor told her, “And can you tell me who the president is?”

“That’s a trick question,” Nicole smirked, proud of herself, “We’re Canadian.”

“And don’t you just thank god for that every day?” Dr. Valdez laughed, but overall appeared pleased with her answers. “Cognitive function appears to be intact, unless there are any concerns?”

“Um,” Waverly spoke up, “last night it seemed like she had some memory loss, is that something to worry about?”

“Well, we can definitely keep an eye on it,” The doctor nodded at Waverly’s concerns, but her face didn’t show any worries. “As far as you know, can she remember now?” Waverly answered the question affirmatively. “Alright, like I said, we’ll watch for any signs of that, but more than likely it was a side effect of the medications wearing off.”

“Okay,” Waverly breathed, relieved.

“Very well then, Nicole, I’m just gonna check out a couple more things, alright?” Dr. Valdez returned her focus to the redhead.

“Whatever you need to do.”

“I need you to follow the light with just your eyes,” the doctor produced a pen light from her pocket, shining the beam across her field of view.

“Ow,” she hissed; Nicole couldn’t help but flinch at first, but eventually adjusted. “Bright.”

“Sorry,” the woman apologized, finishing her test after another moment and replacing the pen in her pocket. “The reaction is a bit sluggish, but that was expected. You hit your head pretty hard there Nicole.”

“Sure does feel like it.”

“You’ve got a pretty nasty concussion, so I’m gonna need you to tell either me or the nurses if your head starts to hurt more than beyond just a normal headache.” Nicole hummed her understanding of the request. “Okay, perfect. Now, I need to test your motor function, so I’m gonna grab your hands and I want you to squeeze mine back as hard as you can.” Nicole did as she was told, glad to see that something appeared to be mostly fine—her right shoulder was sore, but other than that her arms seemed to be no worse for wear. “Lovely, and if you can wiggle your toes for me,” Nicole complied again, though doing so had sent a shot of pain up her right leg and she had far less control over the toes on her right foot than she would’ve liked.

“Oh my god!” Waverly squeaked from beside her, taking her hand and squeezing it. “That’s good, right? She’s not paralyzed?”

Nicole supposed she should’ve figured a serious collision with the wall would have come with the threat of paralysis; should’ve known that Waverly would be terrified of just that.

“No, she’s not paralyzed,” Dr. Valdez chuckled at the outburst. “Though I do want to get you up to surgery sooner rather than later, Nicole. Decreased movement in this bad leg is expected. We’ll take care of everything in the OR.”

The doctor, with the help of Waverly and Wynonna, guided Nicole to a sitting position so that she could listen to her lungs. Nicole wasn’t sure there was scale high enough to rate just how badly the entire exchange hurt. Apparently, as Dr. Valdez explained to her, she had five broken ribs, one of which had punctured her lung (that had also, _apparently_ , collapsed—whatever that meant. She just knew it hurt like a bitch).

“Is that why my throat hurts?” Nicole asked, still very much in pain after being returned to her original position.

“We had you on a ventilator overnight; there was a tube helping you breathe.”

_Well now the razor blades in her throat made sense._

The doctor offered to have a nurse come in to up her pain meds, seeing how much _discomfort_ she was in, which Nicole accepted without hesitation. Satisfied by her assessments, Dr. Valdez said that they would begin to prep her for surgery shortly. Before she left, she asked if Nicole had any more questions for her.

She couldn’t think of any for the woman at the moment—she figured she’d hear enough about the surgery on her leg during prep, and she’d gotten the gist of most of her other injuries throughout the assessment—and Dr. Valdez left the three alone for now.

Nicole did have one question, actually. Well, it was more of a request.

“Hey guys?” She asked, the sisters’ heads both perking up. “Is there video of the hit?”

Wynonna nodded slowly, eying her warily; Waverly looked at her with a mix of concern and warning, and strangely like she was going to start crying.

“There is, but,” Wynonna paused for a second, “are you sure you want to see it? It’s kinda graphic.”

_Yeah, no shit._

She figured it was pretty gnarly if it had landed her in the hospital. She also wondered if Jolene was off somewhere smirking contentedly, taking pride in the fact she had that kind of power.

“Yeah, might as well.”

Wynonna took a deep breath, looking like she was giving Nicole one more chance to back out, pulling her phone out when she realized Nicole wasn’t going to.

_“Barber—point to point to Jackson,”_ the voice of the play-by-play commentator narrated, _“Tries to feed it diagonally to Clanton—deflected into the corner by Pressman. Haught in pursuit, DiMoni on her tail—and WOW! What a hit by DiMoni—Haught slow to get up—pandemonium breaks out on the ice, but Haught still hasn’t moved and she looks like she might be in trouble…”_

Nicole watched the whole thing, feeling oddly detached from the whole experience. The slamming of her head into the boards, the zoomed in footage of her leg bending at an unholy angle, and then the obscenely unnecessary thirty seconds of the camera focused on her lying motionless in the corner. She figured she’d been knocked unconscious right then and there, and she was almost glad she couldn’t remember it. Wynonna was right, it _was_ a cheap shot, and right again (shocking, truly) that the video was graphic, but Nicole wasn’t fazed by it. Maybe she should’ve been; maybe she should’ve had some sort of reaction—the body _does_ have a way of remembering its trauma, but she wasn’t as affected by seeing it as would’ve been reasonably expected.

She heard Waverly choke back what she assumed was a sob at the point in the video where the sound of her head hitting the corner boards with shocking volume for a TV broadcast, and she didn’t have to see her girlfriend’s face to know that she’d been trying not to cry.

“Baby,” she shifted her eyes over to her girlfriend, extending her hand, the smaller girl taking it and squeezing it tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Waverly sniffled, meaning that her attempts to curb the tears had been unsuccessful, “you’re the one who got hurt, so I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“Don’t apologize…you were scared.”

“Nicole, I thought I was going to lose you.”

“I’m here baby,” she tried to soothe, pulling gently on Waverly’s arm to bring her closer. “I’m here. I’m gonna be okay.”

Waverly chewed on her lip, trying to bite back the rest of her tears, looking hard at Nicole’s face.

“Can I kiss you again?” She asked when she looked semi-composed.

“As if you even had to ask.”

\---

A young nurse introduced herself as Joria after a doctor Nicole didn’t recognize escorted Wynonna and Waverly out of the room.

“That’s Dr. Del Rey,” Joria told her, noticing that Nicole was scrutinizing the strange-looking man. What kind of doctor had a bleached mohawk like _that_? (Never mind whatever the fuck was going on with his beard). He looked more like a _Mighty Ducks_ villain than he did a hospital professional. “He’s kinda a maverick, does things outside the ordinary, but he’s one of the best surgeons in the hospital—in Alberta, too.”

“A surgeon?” Nicole questioned, not really put at ease by the nurse’s explanation. She wasn’t sure if _doing things outside the ordinary_ was something someone would want in the doctor operating on them.

“Mhm,” the nurse nodded. “The _best_ damn orthopedic surgeon I’ve ever seen.”

_Wait—orthopedic? That meant…_

“He’s not—”

“—Dr. Del Rey is your surgeon, yes.” Joria explained over Nicole’s question. Sensing her nerves, Joria added, “He’s the best. He was highly sought after by big city hospitals, but chose here to get away from the hustle and bustle of that kind of life, I promise he’s not some trailer park owner in a lab coat. He knows what he’s doing, there’s no one else you’d rather have doing this procedure, alright?”

Still skeptical, but a little more at ease, Nicole hummed her approval. She still wasn’t necessarily sure about the doctor, but the nurse had been calming enough to take her mind off of it, if only just a bit.

Joria continued to work around her, prepping her for the surgery, explaining as she went along. The nurse told her of the broken bones in her foot that would heal themselves with time, but her leg needed an _internal fixation_ , and she’d have some plates and screws holding the lower part of the limb together. Dr. Del Rey would have to work on ligaments and tendons in her knee and ankle too, Joria told her as she listed her injuries.

Nicole didn’t know much about all of this stuff, but she _did_ pass the anatomy course she took as an elective her second year at university, so she knew vaguely where everything was. Hearing words like _ACL, LCL_ and _patellar tendon_ , she knew she was dealing with a pretty serious knee injury. She also knew that people had had their careers ended over things less serious. She didn’t want to get negative, but the anxiety that she may never play again crept in.

The universe had been nothing of a cruel joke to her her entire life. Being born to parents who very clearly did not want a child; the only parental figures in her life dying just as she was entering a new, scary world; finding out she was gay in one of the most awkward and embarrassing interactions of her young life; the number of people who doubted she’d even make it as far as she had (which included herself most days). Nicole had finally reached a point where she felt like she _belonged_ , like she was meant to be exactly where she was, doing exactly the thing she loved, surrounded by a found family who loved and supported her. She was finally, dare she say, happy, and now that happiness could be blown over so easily by the actions of one person. It’d be pretty fitting for her life if this was how this part of it ended.

Before she knew it, she was being wheeled toward the operating room, trying to keep the negative thoughts away. Maybe everything would be fine, and she’d back on the ice before she knew it. She had to hold onto that hope, at least for now—it’s what Waverly would tell her, at least.

“Hey there, Nicole,” she heard a male voice overhead. “I’m Dr. Del Rey, but I’ll tell you what— I’m gonna have to cut into your leg to but it back together, so I think you and I should be on a first name basis—you can call me Bobo, sound good?” Nicole had agreed verbally, but all she could think about how fitting his name was—a ridiculous name for a ridiculous looking man. “Perfect, we’re gonna put you under now and get started, if you can count backwards from ten for me.”

Nicole started counting as the anesthesia mask was placed over her mouth and nose, already making her feel lightheaded and sleepy.

“Ten…nine…eight…”

She was out before she could even remember what number came next.

\---

When she wakes up, Wynonna’s at the foot of the bed with a sharpie in her hand.

Why on earth Wynonna Earp continues to be the first thing she sees when she wakes up, she’s not sure, but chalks it up to the jokes the universe so very clearly loves to play on her.

“Not that I don’t love you,” she croaked out, “but you’re not exactly the Earp I was hoping to wake up to.”

Wynonna looked up at her from where she sat, but didn’t stop scribbling away at the light blue cast on Nicole’s right leg.

“Mmm, you’d think you’d be a little more grateful to have such an artist to wake up to.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Wynonna tutted at her, “I can’t show you my masterpiece until I’ve finished it. You think Picasso or Michelangelo or Donatello ever let anyone see their work before it was done?”

“Wow,” Nicole muttered, mildly impressed, “I didn’t know you _knew_ those were all artists.”

“You underestimate me, Haught.” Wynonna tells her, air of offense in her tone. She shakes her head for a second before adding, “Waverly told me they were painters. I thought that the last two were just _Ninja Turtles_.”

Well that made more sense.

“Speaking of, where _is_ Waverly?”

“Talking to some doctor, I think.” Wynonna didn’t look up from her drawing. “She’s better at the paperwork stuff than I am, so I let her take over.”

“Oh, okay,” Nicole answered, but noticed a change in Wynonna’s demeanor, almost like there was something more she wanted to say. “Wynonna, you good?”

Wynonna put down the marker for a moment, sitting back in the chair with a heavy sigh.

“That was a really shitty thing you did, Nicole,” she said plainly after a moment.

“I-I’m sorry,” Nicole was taken aback, not really having a clue as to what Wynonna was referring to. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” _Had she done something she couldn’t remember? Did she say something while still barely functional after anesthesia?_

“You made me your emergency contact.” _Oh. Right._ “And you didn’t tell me.”

“Wynonna, I’m sorry, I—”

“I was in charge of making decisions for you, but I had no idea what to do. No idea if I was helping or hurting—I was practically useless.” Wynonna said, continuing before Nicole could get another word in. “Did you know you were allergic to thiopental? Because I didn’t, and you almost died in surgery because of the reaction.”

“I had no idea.”

“I know,” Wynonna backed down after snapping just seconds earlier. “It was just such a huge responsibility dropped on me. I didn’t know anything that could be helpful to the doctors in charge of you, and then there was Waverly in the back of my mind—if you weren’t okay and you left her behind because of a wrong decision I made, I-I couldn’t live with myself.”

Admittedly, when she made the decision to pick Wynonna as her emergency contact, she knew she should’ve told the other woman, but she couldn’t bring herself to it. They still hadn’t known each other all that well and it was a big ask.

“Look, Wynonna,” she started, seeing how heavily affected she was by the responsibility. There was a vulnerability to the older woman that she rarely saw. “When we ran into my parents back in Edmonton, I knew that I _wouldn’t_ let them be responsible for making decisions for me now, because they weren’t responsible for me growing up. You were the first person I could trust with this—”

“—Why not Waverly? I’m sure she would’ve known better what to do.”

“You and I both know Waverly wouldn’t be in sound mind to make decisions if it got _really_ bad.” Wynonna nodded in concession. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. When I changed my emergency contact, we didn’t know each other all that well and I was worried you’d think I was weird.”

“Of course I would,” Wynonna said, “but because you’re a fucking _doofus_ , not because you were trusting me with something so important.”

“Thank you Wynonna.”

“For what?”

“For being a good emergency contact.”

“Even though you almost died?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nicole rolled her eyes.

The two sat in the comfortable silence of their heart-to-heart, Wynonna returning to scribble away at Nicole’s cast, using her body to shield it from the redhead’s view. Nicole tried to sit up to sneak a look at Wynonna’s work, but her ribs still hurt too much, and she released a disgruntled groan as she settled back into a more comfortable position; Wynonna snickered.

A few minutes later, Waverly reentered the room, stopping shortly after walking through the door, eyes bulging at the sight of her sister.

“WYNONNA! Why are you drawing dicks all over my girlfriend’s cast!?”

\---

Her first non-Earp visitors (since she first woke up, at least) were Powers and Finning.

Nicole had heard them coming, the secretive whispering outside the door giving them away. Joria let them into the room, the two walking in more carefully than she’d ever seen them. Those two were akin to bulls in a China shop most of the time.

“Listen, if anyone asks, these two,” the nurse gestured between Vic and Shan, “are your sisters, alright?”

Nicole made an _OK_ signal with her fingers, knowing that _technically_ only family was allowed up, and that Joria was essentially sneaking them in.

“Dude,” Vic said to her once the door to the room was closed again and her two teammates had taken the seats on either side of her bed. “You look terrible.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I personally think you look good to go for Game One on Friday.” Shan shrugged.

Nicole frowned, wishing that were true.

“Who do you guys have?” She asked.

“Rangers.” Vic answered, deepening Nicole’s frown for a moment, immediately trying to hide it with a smile. “Don’t act like you’re not bummed out, Nic.” 

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little bummed to miss any game, but especially a playoff game, and double especially one against PA. They were a great squad, no doubt, but for some reason, she’d been able to go off against them all year. Out of every team they played this year, her stats against the Rangers were easily the best.

“Yeah, I guess,” she shrugged, wincing at the tugging on her ribs caused by the action. “But mostly I’m excited for you guys. Second round, that’s huge.”

“It is, but I’m not gonna lie—and don’t let this go to your head—we’re gonna miss your goal-scoring out there.”

“You guys will do just fine without me, I promise.” She said, trying to be supportive of her teammates, but coming off more sadly than intended.

“Shut up and take the compliment, Haught.”

“Thanks guys, for being here.” She smiled at the two women, thankful for their friendship. “And for everything, you don’t even know how helpful you two have been for me through this whole season. Dare I say, you’ve been good influences for me.”

Vic and Shan both snorted.

“You hear that Shan? _Us—good influences?_ Two-hundred and fifty combined penalty minutes last year—good influences? _”_ Vic said, laughing heartily, looking at her teammate across the bed. “Who’d’ve thunk it?”

“Not me.” Shan shared the same laugh.

“God, why do I even bother with you two?” Nicole rolled her eyes.

“Because you _love_ us.” Shan dragged out the vowel, giving her a Cheshire Cat smile.

“Yeah, what’re friends for?” Powers said, slapping her hand down to pat Nicole’s leg a little to roughly. Nicole yelped as her teammate’s hand made contact with her casted leg, the pain from her injury making a rather unwelcomed reappearance. “Oh _fuck,_ right—sorry.”

“God dammit Victoria, gentle with the broken child.” Finning scolded.

Vic, at the mention of her full name, stuck her tongue out at her linemate.

“I said I was sorry, _Shannon_.”

The two bickered like siblings (like little kids) for a second, which Nicole appreciated, the interaction helping to distract her from the pain that exploded in her leg.

“Guys, it’s fine…” she said through deep breaths, pouting as she crossed her arms and added. “And I’m not a child.”

“You’re still a rookie,” Shan said pointedly, “you’re a child.”

She muttered a _whatever_ under her breath, but cracked a small smile nonetheless.

“Nice cast you got there, but I think you drew the wrong _parts_ on there,” Vic snorted, switching conversation. “I thought you weren’t into—”

“—Wynonna has the mental maturity of a sixth grade boy.” She explained with a roll of her eye at the work of her best friend.

“I knew I always liked her.” Powers smiled, bemused. “So, recent moments aside, how’s the wheel?”

“Being held together with plates and screws.”

“Plates, screws, faith, trust,” Vic listed, “maybe a little bit of pixie dust.”

“Do you at least get to keep them?” Shan asked, swatting at the air in Vic’s direction, weirdly interested in Nicole’s answer. 

“No, they’ll remove them in six to eight weeks.” She recalled what Dr. Del Rey had explained to her when he had come to check in on her shortly after she had woken up from surgery.

“Lame,” Finning grumbled, unimpressed. “You could’ve had a whole _RoboCop_ thing going for you once you come back.”

Nicole bit her tongue to refrain from saying _“If I come back”._ There was still a lot of uncertainty on just how much mobility she’d be able to regain. She really didn’t want to dwell on it.

“Who was your surgeon?” Vic asked.

“Dr. Del Rey.”

The other two shared a knowing look across the bed, eyes widening.

“Dude, no way.”

“What? Is that a bad thing?” She asked, her voice betraying a new level of anxiety within her. “Oh, god, I’m never gonna walk again, am I?”

“Jesus Christ, Haught. Quit being so dramatic.” Finning chided. “The freaky weirdo’s the best god damn surgeon for a hundred miles. Fixed up my ACL three seasons ago.”

“Mine too.” Vic seconded. “Not the same season, but yeah—same surgery. Good as new.” She knocked on her own knee as if that proved her point. “For how weird of a dude good ol’ Bobo is, he’s one hell of a surgeon.”

She released a sigh of relief. Nothing was guaranteed for her, obviously, but that had to be a good sign that both Powers and Finning had surgeries done by Bobo and they seemed to be just fine. Maybe, just maybe, she’d have her own similar, favorable outcome.

Nicole readjusted herself in the bed slightly, grimacing as a new wave of pain washed over her.

“So you gotta relax yourself, and get better,” Shan said, a soft laugh escaping as she watched Nicole, “because when you get back on the ice, we are _so_ teaching you how to avoid hits.”

\---

When three firm knocks in moderate succession echo through her door, she invites the knocker in, seeing Randy Nedley emerge with scratch marks across his chin. She can’t help but give a half-chuckle under her breath.

“I, uh…went to your apartment. Made sure your cat was fed.” He said, instead of a formal greeting.

“I take it Calamity Jane wasn’t too keen on a new visitor.”

“That she was not,” the Sheriff nodded in agreement as he took the seat vacated by her teammates a few minutes earlier.

“Yeah, she doesn’t really like men.”

“Well who does?”

Nedley looked at her, eyes full of caring, though Nicole could tell he was trying to cover it up with a strong, coachly front.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, seemingly when the silence got too awkward for him.

“Great, good as new.” She lied. She knew she had done so terribly by the admonishing look Nedley gave her, his mustache (of all things) twitching, telling her he was not buying it in the slightest. “Okay fine, I’ve been better,” she conceded.

“You know, yours was one of the worst injuries I’ve ever seen?”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” She asked, skeptical of where Nedley was going with this.

“I, well no, I suppose not.” He muttered, thinking inward to calculate what he would say next. “I was awful terrified for ya, Haught. You’re one of the toughest players I’ve ever had, that I’ve ever seen, so when you didn’t get up right away, I knew it was somethin’ serious. It was bush league, what that Jolene did to ya—you haven’t seen it yet, have you?”

“I have. Wynonna showed me.”

“Right,” he said, though Nicole swears she heard him mumble something about _damn Earps_ under his breath. “Well, uh, I’m glad you’re alright. You would’ve made a lot of people real distraught if you weren’t. Waverly Earp loves you somethin’ fierce ya know. I ain’t never seen her in such a tizzy as I had while you were out.”

“Oh, I know it.” She said with a soft smile. Her heart still fluttered, like it was something brand new, almost unbelievable, at the thought of the woman she was far too lucky to have.

She could tell Nedley was thinking deeply about something, had something on the tip of his tongue that he wanted to say. His demeanor was oddly pensive, reserved—not Nedley-like.

“Earlier this season, I told you about draft night, d’you remember that?”

Of course she had. It was one of the first times she’d felt like she had a place here, with the team.

“Mhm.”

“I had my eye on you all night, kept watching, seeing your name hadn’t been called yet. Had to fight everyone in that room to be the one to do it. I knew that you just had to be on this team.”

“No offense coach, but you already told me all this.”

“I know I know,” he said, sitting up from his previously laid-back position in the chair, elbows perched on his knees. Nicole knew that whatever her was going to say next was important. “Do you remember the Flames camp—Lord, it must’ve been thirteen, fourteen years ago now?”

Nicole did remember. It had been one of the first big things she’d done with her hockey career. God, she must’ve been nine, _maybe_ pushing ten, at the time. Kendra and John had driven her from Edmonton to Calgary when Nicole showed them the invitation that had come in the mail—her parents off god knows where, doing god knows what. A hockey camp of that caliber wasn’t something you just ignored, her aunt and uncle knew that and made sure that she was given the chance to capitalize on the opportunity.

“Yeah?” She questioned, not sure of the relevance.

“I was there, helping to run the thing. God awful experience,” Nedley chuckled with a look of fond remembrance in his eyes. “I tend to forget how little attention span kids have, and even less coordination.” Nicole nodded slowly along with the story (she’d figured out how to do so and _not_ to start the expressway of pain in her neck). “You were a lanky little redhead, only one with the _gall_ to show up in an Oilers jersey,” he nodded with a laugh at the memory. “You were skating circles around all those boys there. You weren’t the biggest or the strongest, but you listened, and you were determined to get the drills _just right_ , like you had something to prove. I knew you’d be a kid I’d have to remember. Had my eye out for your name ever since; been rootin’ for ya. When you were still on the draft board at the end of the night, I just had to make sure you got your shot. I’ll tell ya, Haught, the only difference between you and that lanky little kid is maybe ten or twelve inches. You’re still just as scrappy, and I can still tell you’re still out trying to prove your worth.” He paused, misty-eyed, very much not the strong, composed coach she knew. “I’ve been _proud_ , like very truly, honest to god proud of very few things in my life—my daughter, learning all the words to _Mambo No. 5_ in less than a day—but I am so proud of you, Haught, it’s unbelievable.”

“I—coach,” she said, holding back tears. She hadn’t the slightest clue that Nedley had cared so much for so long. That she’d had someone in her corner, even when she didn’t think she’d had anyone. “I had—thank you. I’d give you a hug, but…” she motioned to the general vicinity of her entire body, and she knew Nedley understood. For as much of a fatherly figure she saw him as, Nicole also knew that the coach was more than a little awkward when it came to visibly displaying emotions.

“Of course, Nicole,” Nedley nodded, the gesture looking a bit funny to Nicole with the absence of the Sheriff’s usual headwear. There was a mutual understanding of their shared connection anyway. “You know you’ve got, uh…” he motioned toward her leg, “on your cast?”

“Wynonna,” she said, and that had been enough explanation for Nedley.

\---

Exhausted isn’t even the word to describe the way she felt after the events of the day. She knew it was just past the end of visiting hours, and would be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to getting some sleep. Recovering from a massive head injury and a long surgery would do that to a person. She assumed the knock on the door (so soft she’d barely heard it in the first place) was a nurse coming to do a last nightly check before Nicole knocked out for the night.

She assumed wrong, naturally.

“Hey,” Shae said, standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed. Nicole wasn’t really expecting her, and was far too tired to deal with whatever posturing and standoffish behavior the captain was going to show to her. But, she remembered that Wynonna Earp of all people told her to listen to whatever Shae had to say, so she sucked it up no matter how much she’d rather just go back to sleep.

“Sit, please.” She offered weakly. Shae shuffled to the seat, taking it tentatively.

“Wynonna?” The woman asked, gesturing to her cast.

“Bingo.” Nicole smiled fondly, “She’s an idiot.”

Shae smiled at her, very much looking uncomfortable. Nicole could tell she was going to have to break the silence, seeing as Shae just sat there, looking down at her hands.

“Wynonna said I should talk to you,” she said once she figured the best way to phrase it without sounding like a complete asshole. “Well, she said I should let you talk. So…” she left a pause, prodding Shae to begin.

“I, um, I’m sorry Nicole. For everything. I was an idiot and so, so, _so_ wrong.” Nicole nodded. _Okay, an apology is a start._ As far as she knew, Shae Pressman would sooner die than ever admit she was wrong. “From the second you got here I was such a dick to you, and really, there’s no excuse to make it okay. I know sorry probably doesn’t mean shit, but I am. Really, truly sorry.”

“Shae,” she tried, but the woman continued.

“You didn’t deserve any of it. You showing up just brought back memories from a time I tried to forget. It’s like the universe was sending you to haunt me. Like it was punishing me for something. I realize now I’ve been lying to myself for far too long. Scared of the consequences, scared of what people like Bunny would say.”

“Okay,” she dragged out the vowel as she quirked an eyebrow, “but don’t you think that was just as shitty for me? I mean throwing me out and calling me disgusting? And then you double down and make it worse years later. You accused me of outing you to Bunny, made the team suffer because of it. God, Shae, who does that?”

“Me, apparently.” The captain said, hanging her head ashamedly. “Listen, Haught. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away—or at all—but I needed you to know that I really do regret everything I did to you, and I’m sorry.”

Nicole wasn’t really sure what to say. It’d been nice to hear Shae’s remorse for her actions, but she couldn’t bring herself to forgive and forget just yet. She’d been too hurt by the woman’s words and actions for that.

“That’s a nice shiner you got there.” Nicole settled on that as her response.

“You should see the other guy.” Shae snickered dryly.

“Who’s the other guy?”

Shae scratched at the back of her neck, almost like the answer to that question was a hard one.

“Jolene.”

“She hit you too?” Nicole asked in disbelief. _What a fucking bitch_ , she thought. _When she said “eliminate the threat”, I guess she really meant it._

“Something like that.” The captain explained, and Nicole looked back at her expectantly waiting elaboration. “I uh, I was the first one to the boards after the play. I pulled her off of you, she clocked me a good one I guess.”

Nicole remembered the video. She had seen what Shae was referring to, but hadn’t been able to determine who it was, until now she supposed.

“D’you hit ‘er back?” Nicole asked, her words starting to blend together with her exhaustion.

“Yeah. I think she ended up breaking her nose, needed a couple stitches on her lip last I heard.” Shae shrugged, looking more uncomfortable than Nicole thought she would. She figured the woman would’ve been bragging about a Shawn Thornton type knockout she’d handed Jolene, but she was weirdly humble about it.

“Thank you. For defending my honor.”

Shae rolled her eyes playfully, but nodded anyway.

“Needed to do something.” Shae said, thoughtful. “I was such an ass to you. I’m sorry it took something so drastic for me to see the error of my ways.”

“Well,” said Nicole, “harboring old grudges won’t make anything heal faster. So, I think the best we can do is try to move forward on a better note.”

She’d surprised herself, but she believed everything she said. Hating Shae wouldn’t help any part of her recovery, and the woman seemed genuinely remorseful for her past actions. Nicole took a leap of faith, deciding it was high time they stopped fueling the animosity between each other.

\---

More than an hour after visiting hours were supposed to have ended, Nicole found herself still awake, more exhausted than she’d been in her entire life. She was waiting for her nurse to come in, give her one last check over before she could _finally_ knock out for the night.

Thankfully, Joria entered a few minutes later. Less thankfully, and more curiously, the nurse was dragging in a cot behind her.

“What the hell?” She murmured, though she wasn’t sure it even came out as English at this point.

“No more visitors, I promise.” Joria laughed as she set up the small bed next to Nicole’s own. “Although, I do think you’ll quite like this one.”

Behind the nurse, the most beautiful angel she’d ever seen emerged in the doorway. The bleariness of her eyes and the backlighting in the hallway created a halo of light behind Waverly that Nicole found _so_ fitting for the woman.

“Hi baby,” she smiled, though she could really hear the tiredness in her voice now. 

“Hi,” Waverly’s smile could’ve split her face in half, her eyes creasing into little crescent moons as she practically jogged over to Nicole in the bed. “The best nurse in the entire hospital,” she nodded toward Joria, who bobbed her head with pride and faux importance, “pulled some strings, said I could spend the night here—if you want me to, of course.”

“Is that even a question?”

Joria went through her nighttime checklist, excusing herself once she deemed everything satisfactory, leaving the two alone.

“You know what I just realized?” Nicole asked. Waverly perked her head up from where she sat on the cot. “This is the first _alone time_ we’ve had since I’ve been here.”

“I know,” Waverly said, almost sadly. “I’ve missed you. Been worried about you.”

“Missed you too,” she said through a yawn. “Sorry, just really tired.”

“I bet,” her girlfriend nodded, giving a squeeze to Nicole’s hand. “You had quite the day, didn’t you? Lots of visitors, lots of conversation.”

“Much rather would’ve been talking to you.” Nicole charmed, putting on her winning smile. “How was _your_ day?”

“Long,” Waverly said through her own yawn. “Lots of paperwork and talking to doctors. Not to brag, but I’m pretty sure I could’ve done your surgery with the number of questions I asked all those doctors.” Nicole laughed, thinking of how cute Waverly would’ve looked in a set of baby blue scrubs (maybe she’d don a pretty purple butterfly scrub cap).

“I think you’d make an _excellent_ surgeon. May be a bit biased though,” She told her, pausing for a moment to take in the angel in front of her. “I’m so in love with you, Waverly Earp.”

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Waverly told her between kisses to her hand. “I’m gonna tell you that a hundred times a day for the rest of your life.”

“How ever did I get so lucky?” She smiled at Waverly dreamily, seeing the sadness still behind her eyes, knowing the events of the last couple of days were wearing on her. She may have been the one injured, and in a hospital bed, but Waverly had to sit and wonder if Nicole would even be okay. She’d said it herself—she was _terrified_ that Nicole wasn’t going to make it out; Wynonna told her she’d almost died in surgery; she’d apparently been breathing through a tube a little over 24 hours ago. “I’m not going to leave you. Not if I can help it.” She tried to comfort, though she was sure it was hard to understand—they’d upped her morphine after Shae left, and she was more than a little drowsy at this point. She squeezed Waverly’s hand back. “God, I wish I could hold you right now.”

Waverly frowned. They both knew that Nicole’s wounds were still too fresh and she was still connected to too many machines for Waverly to even think about climbing into the bed with her—no matter how badly she wanted to.

“I know, baby, I know.” Waverly sighed, rolling herself over onto her side, getting as comfortable as she could possibly get on a hospital cot. Nicole saw the brunette’s eyes grow heavy, and she had little doubt that her own looked very similar. “Soon, soon everything’s gonna be just perfect,” she yawned, “and it’s gonna be all back to normal.”


	20. It's Not Easy

Nicole would never admit it, but she cried herself to sleep after Game One.

Waverly knew.

It’d been a good night, actually. Wynonna had gone to the arena to snag Nicole’s jersey from the equipment room and they’d planned to have a little watch party for the game, just the three of them since everyone else had jobs to do. After much hounding from Dolls, Wynonna snapped a photo of Nicole in her jersey, propped up in her bed with a smile plastered across her face and two thumbs up. The image (which Waverly instantly noticed was photoshopped to hide the NSFW imagery on Nicole’s cast) was posted on the Devils’ Instagram account just before the game, with the caption:

**“Extra support from one of our own tonight. Glad to see our shining star, Nicole Haught, on the mend. #GoDevils.”**

The Devils donned small circular patches on their shoulders with the number 15 on them, and all of them had kind words to say of Nicole in the media prior to puck drop.

The three watched the game intently on the small screen in Nicole’s room, snacking on the subpar hospital food. They whooped and cheered and booed and yelled at the refs in all the right places, Nicole and Wynonna occasionally making comments about the plays they would’ve made if they were in the game. The team played well, though Waverly could tell their game style was different since it was missing a large part of its point production. Shae dazzled as always, but it was Vic and Shan combining for a goal apiece that pushed the home team across the finish line for a 2-0 victory to take the important series lead. Doctors and nurses meandered in and out throughout the course of the game under the guise of routine checks, but really they’d wanted to catch a glimpse of the excitement.

It was pretty much a forgone conclusion that the Earps, or at the very least Waverly, would spend be spending the night in Nicole’s room most nights, and the night of game one had been no exception. Wynonna skipped out about an hour after the game with an excitement that both Waverly and her girlfriend knew meant she’d be meeting up with Doc.

Waverly would’ve enjoyed the alone time, if not for the fact that Nicole was so visibly exhausted. The redhead was like an infant these days, needing a nap every few hours and being tired even after waking up from them. She knew it took a lot of energy, recovering from the injuries her girlfriend had sustained, but wished that they could just fast forward to the part where Nicole was good as new again (or that she could go back in time and make sure the incident never even happened in the first place).

She herself wasn’t all that tired, but when Nicole started yawning more and more frequently, Waverly suggested that they turn in for the night. She rolled herself over on the cot and closed her eyes, with the initial intention of giving Nicole the quiet she needed to relax and fall asleep, but eventually she found herself floating along the edge of consciousness. She was _this_ close to falling asleep when she heard the heart-wrenching sniffles and concealed sobs, a telltale sign that Nicole was crying. By the time Waverly was lucid enough to get up to try and console her girlfriend, the sobs became hiccups before evening out into steady breathing, and then Nicole was asleep.

But, as Nicole found some semblance of peace in her slumber, Waverly was wide awake. She ran her thumb along the redhead’s knuckles, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she slept. Waverly had caught herself doing it on one occasion, and _knows_ it was a little creepy to watch Nicole sleep like that, but for her, it was just a reassurance that she was breathing—that she was alive. She hadn’t realized how much she feared for Nicole’s life until Nicole finally did wake up. She knew that they were very much at the beginning of this journey, and tonight’s moment was empirical evidence of that. Nicole was as stubborn as they came, and played off everything that had happened to her, putting on a smile and trying to keep up with Wynonna’s snark. She’d pretend everything was okay, for the sake of others (or maybe to trick herself), and didn’t want anyone to see her pain. Waverly knew that Nicole had only allowed herself to cry because she thought the younger woman was asleep, and the thought only made her heart clench tighter. All she wanted was for Nicole to get through this, healthy and happy, and she really hoped that Nicole would let her lift some of the burden of her pain.

Waverly fell asleep with Nicole’s hand in hers, listening to the sound of her breathing, her own falling into sync with the redhead’s.

\---

Waverly loved the ICU nurses, especially once Nicole had woken up, but she’d been more than ecstatic when the redhead was moved to a regular patient room on Sunday afternoon. She knew that meant Nicole was one step closer to being able to go home, and chalked it up under little victories. Nicole was mostly in good spirits when she was awake, and as far as Waverly knew, the crying was a one-time thing.

Nicole dealt with a mostly constant headache, and tended to have trouble focusing (more so when she was tired), but those were expected symptoms of her concussion. They saw Dr. Valdez less frequently once Nicole was out of the ICU, but Waverly made sure to raise her concerns when she _did_ see the woman. Dr. Valdez assured her that as she healed, Nicole would become less and less tired, and her attention span should return to normal as her brain recovered. Dr. Del Rey had been to see Nicole a couple times, informing all present that Nicole’s leg was in a fragile state and could not bear weight for five weeks at the very least.

Tuesday afternoon, a nurse (who neither of them liked as much as Joria), came in to work with Nicole. She’d told them that the best thing for Nicole’s recovery was to get moving--slowly at first, and with limitations, but moving still. Nicole was hesitant to have Waverly there for the first few sessions, but by Friday evening, she had regained enough strength to graduate to crutches (arm crutches so as not to aggravate her rib injuries).

Waverly beamed when Nicole had returned from her session, slightly sweaty and out of breath, but a smile on her face to already be on the road to recovery. She knew the woman to be something of an overachiever, which inevitably meant that whatever timetable the doctors gave her for recovery, Nicole would try to beat it like it was some sort of race.

She woke before Nicole did on Saturday morning, the sun barely peeking through the curtains as she played with the loose strands of red hair that had fallen out of the loosely tied bun on Nicole’s head. The redhead slept peacefully, allowing Waverly to take her in for what had to be the millionth time in the span of almost two weeks, but she’d always managed to find something new that she hadn’t noticed before. Like how there was a tiny little freckle right in the center of her hairline that Waverly couldn’t explain for the life of her why she found it so adorable. Or the faded scar under Nicole’s eye that she’d always assumed was some sort of hockey injury, but when she’d asked Nicole about it, Nicole’s cheeks turned as red as her hair as she recounted the events leading up to running into a jungle gym in the first grade because she’d been chasing a girl across the playground. (Waverly laughed even harder when Nicole said _“In retrospect, I guess I should’ve known I was gay—I was always trying to get her attention and telling her how pretty I thought the bows in her hair were)._

Dr. Valdez entered the room quietly, presumably doing her morning checks, looking pleasantly surprised to see Waverly was up.

“Good morning,” she greeted just above a whisper, not wanting to disturb Nicole’s sleep. Waverly returned the same greeting, sitting herself up more properly now that there was company. “I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

“Yes, of course. What about?” She asked, looking at the doctor, her tone putting Waverly at ease—it didn’t _sound_ like bad news, which was good.

“Nicole is progressing well, and we think she’ll be set to be discharged soon,” Dr. Valdez told her, and she’d barely been able to suppress the joyful squeal at the news. She wanted nothing more than to go home and not have to see Nicole in a hospital bed ever again. But the way Dr. Valdez paused made Waverly think that it wasn’t going to be that simple.

“Why do I get the feeling there’s an ellipsis at the end of that sentence?”

“The plan is to have her discharged by tomorrow afternoon, maybe the evening…but,” _there it was_ , “I need to know if she has the support system to get her through the road ahead.”

“Yes. Of course,” Waverly assured, knowing that she and Wynonna would be there for her (and Doc and the Jeremy-Robin duo and _Frick and Frack—_ a nickname given to Powers and Finning by Nedley, who Waverly knew would also be there to support Nicole).

Dr. Valdez fixed her with a serious look.

“Alright, because it’s going to be a long, tough road. Her recovery will only be as successful as the support system she has. It’s not going to be easy. On any of you.”

Waverly looked at Nicole, still asleep and peaceful. She’d been in such good spirits as of late that Waverly almost forgot about Nicole crying herself to sleep just a week beforehand. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to playing nurse and taking care of Nicole for once—the older woman always putting Waverly before herself. But, at the same time, her heart ached at the thought that things would probably get worse before they got better, that some days, no number of kisses from her girlfriend or inappropriate jokes from Wynonna would make Nicole’s pain away.

She nodded in understanding toward Dr. Valdez. The doctor explained in a little more detail the needs and restrictions Nicole would have, the list medications she’d need to take, referrals to physical therapists and so on and so forth, assuring Waverly that she’d have a whole portfolio of information to take home. (She’d make herself a nice binder for all the information once she was settled in at home).

It only dawned on her after Dr. Valdez excused herself that Nicole wouldn’t be able to stay in her apartment, her third floor (no elevator) apartment, with her injuries, and that she’d essentially have to move into the homestead—not that Waverly was complaining. It had been a long time coming; Nicole had been staying the night there with increasing frequency anyway.

Nicole started to stir just under an hour later, sleepy eyes matching a sleepy smile as she found Waverly.

“Every time I wake up to that face, my first thought is that I must’ve died and gone to heaven.” Nicole said, voice husky with sleep, making Waverly blush the way Nicole did so often and with so much ease it was like it was second nature. “You,” she took Waverly’s hand, pressing a kiss to the knuckles, “are an angel—my angel.”

“Well, your angel has some exciting news.”

Nicole perked up, looking like an expectant child on Christmas.

“What is it?”

“Guess who’s going home tomorrow!”

\---

Nicole Rayleigh Haught was officially the _worst_ patient in the world.

Waverly had known it would be no walk in the park, but _Jesus_ , she didn’t ever think she’d have to physically restrain Nicole to the bed (and not in the fun way). For someone who slept close to sixteen hours a day for the last two weeks, Nicole was surprisingly full of energy, and it drove Waverly crazy.

When Nicole was discharged on Sunday afternoon, Waverly thought they were off to a good start when Nicole only argued with her for five minutes about being wheeled out of the hospital before giving in and agreeing. (She was even sure she heard Nicole grumble under her breath that maybe Waverly was right, and she couldn’t actually walk out on her own). That thought was quickly disproven when they went to Nicole’s apartment and the redhead demanded that she climb the stairs herself to grab Calamity Jane and pack the things she’d need for her stay at the homestead. Waverly left Nicole in the backseat of the Jeep, pouting like a toddler, with Wynonna to make sure she stayed put. Nicole grumbled and complained about how _independent_ she was, and how she could _take care of herself_ for the entirety of the ride between her apartment to the pharmacy to get her medications filled and all the way to the homestead. Luckily for Waverly, her very cute, very childish girlfriend’s argument had tired her out, and she hadn’t had the energy to do much else than crash in Wynonna’s bed on the first floor of the homestead.

Nicole was up with the sun on Monday morning, her groaning telling Waverly that she’d had an especially bad headache. She was quick to put on her nurse hat and bring Nicole the medication Dr. Valdez had explained to her should help the pain. Nicole let Waverly dote on her, and lay in bed with her, taking in the comforts of finally being out of the hospital. But, dependent, patient Nicole was _so needy,_ Waverly quickly noticed. It started with the pillows not being fluffy enough, and then after Waverly had spent more than an appropriate amount of time fluffing the pillows, they were _too_ fluffy for Princess Haught. And then, Queen Nicole the First was hungry, and nagged and complained until Waverly brought her a sandwich. By the time Waverly returned with her lunch, Nicole turned up her nose at it, saying that she _wasn’t hungry_ anymore. Waverly knew that her medications would have an impact on her appetite, and she felt a little guilty about the way she was angry at Nicole for making her spend time on food that she wouldn’t eat. The worst part was the way Nicole kept trying to get up to get things, especially when Waverly was out of the room. They weren’t even things she needed, just things she saw around the room that had caught her eye (which changed quite frequently with her diminished attention span). Sometime just before one o’clock, Waverly was so done with policing Nicole and telling her to lay back down that she was more than considering handcuffing the woman to the bed to get her to stay put. She’d even figured the incessant jokes from Wynonna would be tolerable if it meant that Nicole would just _stay in bed_ like the doctor told her to.

Thankfully, Nicole slept much of the afternoon so that she could be awake to watch Game Six between the Devils and the Rangers. That quiet time allowed Waverly to sit down and color code a big red binder with phone numbers and lists of medications and schedules and the like. Puck drop was an hour earlier than normal since the game was being played in Prince Albert, which Waverly thought was good, since she doubted Nicole would be able to stay awake long enough to watch it all the way through if it didn’t. Especially when the game went into double overtime. The Rangers, down in the series 3-2 and on the brink of elimination, made it abundantly clear that they weren’t going to be taken down easily. Beside her, Nicole was increasingly succumbing to her exhaustion, but fighting it in hopes of seeing one of her teammates netting the game-winning goal that would send the Devils to the Western Conference Finals. Every so often, Waverly would catch Nicole’s eyelids drooping closed, her head bobbing back up quickly, catching herself falling asleep. She found it exceedingly adorable.

(Nicole passed out immediately following the scoring of the Rangers’ goal).

By Tuesday morning, it was more than evident to Waverly that Nicole was _done_ with letting people take care of her. For the first time in a long time, Nicole was up before Waverly, trying to go about her daily business as if she weren’t recuperating from an injury that had her confined to a hospital bed for just about two weeks. The result was a lot of clumsy clattering coming from the kitchen. Growing up with Wynonna had taught Waverly to sleep through a variety of loud clanging and banging around the homestead, so by the time she was bothered enough by the ruckus Nicole was causing, the redhead was more than frustrated.

“Baby, what’re you doing?” She asked with a smile and a soft chuckle standing in the doorway surveying the scene—the countertop a mess, Nicole having knocked over the box of pancake mix, the white powder messily covering the surface; the redhead leaning on her good leg and the crutch, trying to hop her way around, looking for _something_ in the cabinets above the counter, working up a sweat and awkwardly banging into things as she did. Nicole turned around at the sound of her voice, blowing hair out of her face.

“Oh, good morning,” she said, though Waverly could hear just how winded Nicole was from the simple acts. Nicole looked around, grabbing what she had been searching for, holding up a frying pan when she turned back to Waverly, “breakfast.”

“I can see that,” Waverly chuckled, taking a step in, to see that the pancake mix had spilt onto the floor as well.

“Sorry about the mess,” Nicole said sheepishly, weakly. “I’ll clean it up after I finish cooking.”

“Nicole Haught, you will do no such thing.”

“I got it, look,” Nicole, in an attempt to prove her point, tried to bend over to pick up the box on the floor, grimacing before she even got halfway.

Waverly stepped over to her girlfriend to stop her before she hurt herself, not wanting her to aggravate an injury or topple over because she got dizzy.

“Nicole, baby, it’s fine,” she placed her hand on her shoulder to steady the taller woman. From the closer proximity, she could see just how shaky on her feet Nicole really was, meaning she’d probably been exerting herself too much for longer than Waverly thought.

“No, no, I made a mess,” she sucked in a sharp breath as she winced, “I’ll clean it.”

“That is something you will _not_ be doing, missy,” Waverly bossed, pulling out a kitchen chair. “Now sit down, please.”

“Waves, I’m fine, promise. I’m making breakfast.”

“Nicole, you’re shaking, and in pain,” she said firmly, pointing out the obvious. “Sit down before you make it worse.” When Nicole went to protest again, Waverly stood in front of her, arms crossed, eyebrow arched in warning, an admonishing aura about her. Nicole took it, albeit unhappily, as a warning not to fuck with the smaller woman, and allowed Waverly to guide her to sit in the chair. “Have you taken your meds yet?”

“No,” Nicole answered, and then looked down at her hands, “they’re upstairs.”

Waverly didn’t miss the way that Nicole probably would’ve ended the sentence saying that she _couldn’t_ get upstairs, but looked embarrassed to admit she was unable to do something so simple as climbing the stairs. She nodded in understanding, jogging up to get them, returning to fill a glass with water and handing Nicole the pills. There were far too many, with names that were far too long for her to remember what each one was called. (She’d have to make herself a chart for the binder to remember the names instead of referring to them as _“the little pink one”_ or _“the white oblong one”_ ).

“Thank you,” Nicole said after gulping down the water. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You,” Waverly pressed her lips to the crown of Nicole’s head, “could _never_ be a burden to me.”

“These are things I should be able to do myself. I mean, I should be able to walk upstairs or make pancakes for my girlfriend without making a mess. I wanted to do something nice—I know I was a lot yesterday.”

Admittedly, Nicole was a _little_ much the day before, and Waverly appreciated the attempted apology, but knew in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t something Nicole should’ve had to be sorry about.

“Nicole, there’s no need to apologize for needing help,” Waverly told her, though Nicole looked less like she was listening and more so preoccupied with the mess on the floor. “Hey, it’s alright, really,” she grabbed Nicole gently by the cheeks to get her attention, “we can make Wynonna clean it up.”

\---

After a lot of phone calls, and sneakily assessing Nicole, Waverly had a surprise for the redhead.

Game seven against the Rangers was in Purgatory on Wednesday night, and after convincing Dr. Valdez that Nicole was good—her pain was at a tolerable level, she didn’t have a fever, etc—and assuring her that she would personally make sure Nicole didn’t overexert herself, the doctor gave her blessing for Nicole to attend the game in person. Waverly called Nedley to tell him the news, and the normally stoic coach seemed excited even through the phone. They’d make a small hoopla about her attendance at the game, and Nedley hoped it would provide an extra spark for the team who found themselves playing in yet another crucial Game Seven.

Almost like she was the mother of a preschooler, when Nicole was fighting Waverly on taking a nap (through constant yawning), she’d had no choice but to tell her the surprise—essentially bribing her to take a nap with the promise of getting to see her friends. After all, if Nicole didn’t sleep now, Waverly knew she’d be too tired to stay awake at the game.

Nicole awoke from her nap with the excitement of a child on a snow day. She sat up in the bed as quickly as she could and put on her jersey, all but bouncing in anticipation of going to the game. Waverly smiled at the bursts of energy Nicole had lately, preferring them to the excruciating 24-plus hours where Nicole was in an unconscious limbo.

“This is incredible,” Nicole beamed as they stood in line to get popcorn for the game. “I don’t know the last time I’ve actually _been_ to a hockey game—to watch, I mean, I’m usually playing.”

“While I must say I do love watching you play, it is nice to have you with me to watch the game.”

“You don’t miss your numbers and your score charts?” Nicole teased as the line inched forward.

“Well, maybe a little bit,” Waverly conceded.

“You’re not worried that Tucker Gardner’s ruining the stellar scorekeeping of this team?”

“Hmm,” she frowned, “well now I am.”

“Relax baby, I’m joking—though I know for a fact nobody could do that job better than you do it.”

“You flatter me, Miss Haught,” Waverly batted her eyelashes and pressed her hand to her chest in adoration.

Once they reached the front of the line, Waverly ordered them a large popcorn and two bottles of water, not bothering to order Wynonna anything—one, because Waverly wouldn’t be able to carry everything for all three of them and two, because Wynonna was a grown woman and could do so herself.

“Hey, you’re Nicole Haught,” the girl at the register, a high school age volunteer with vaguely familiar features, pointed out. It didn’t take a genius to pick Nicole out of a crowd right now, what with her crutches and her braced and casted leg.

“Yeah, last I checked at least,” Nicole chuckled.

“I’m Rachel,” the cashier said, as if that were supposed to mean anything to either of them. “Rachel Valdez. My mom was your doctor, right? Dr. Gloria Valdez?”

_That_ was where the vaguely familiar features came from then. Now that she thought of it, Waverly recalled Dr. Valdez mentioning a daughter who happened to be volunteering at the Devils games.

“Yeah, she was. Best doctor I’ve ever had.” Nicole smiled at the girl.

“She’s alright,” Rachel shrugged, handing Waverly her change. “Well, I think your whole situation was a real backpack of balls, dude.”

“You can say that again. But I’m doing better—hope to be back soon.”

“You better, this team clearly needs you,” Rachel said matter-of-factly, “should’ve wiped the floor with this team, but here we are in Game Seven.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Nicole said, sensing the aggravation of the line being held up, “well, it was nice meeting you, Rachel.”

As they walked to their seats, the pair remarked about how much Rachel reminded them of Wynonna, even through just a short interaction—the direct way she spoke, the general disinterest for the task at hand, the tiptoeing of the fine line between following the rules and breaking them (wearing her uniform shirt underneath a fringe leather jacket, which coincidentally also reminded them of Wynonna).

Dolls had allowed them into the player box for the game, which Waverly appreciated. They were great seats, and away from the crazy general crowd of fanatic Purgatorians, and the space allowed Nicole to put her leg up and rest, which had been one of Dr. Valdez’ stipulations for her attendance at the game. By the time 7 pm rolled around, Perry came onto the microphone and a cameraman found his way into their box.

_“Ladies and gentlemen let’s all join in a round of applause in welcoming Purgatory Blue Devils center, Nicole Haught, back to the Wyatt Earp Memorial Coliseum,”_ Perry’s voice boomed as Nicole waved to the crowd and the camera, the image playing on the big screen for all to see. The crowd erupted in cheers and Waverly spotted Vic, Shan and Shae on the bench standing and pumping their fists in excitement at Nicole’s presence. Once the applause died down, Perry called for everyone to rise for the anthem so that the game could begin.

Wynonna joined them after puck drop, telling them that Dolls had been left in charge of the door in her place tonight. Waverly supposed he was glad not to have to babysit Bunny Loblaw tonight, the woman notably absent from the game, still recovering with her jaw wired shut.

The Game Seven energy was just as present as it had been two weeks ago, and the return of an injured teammate appeared to have spurred the Devils on, striking first as Shae danced through the defense before dishing a pass across the ice that landed softly on Jenna’s stick and was one-timed into the net. Nicole, though unable to stand for the goal celebration, cheered as loudly as her injured body would allow her, and Wynonna sounded her air horn to make up for it.

By the end of period number two, the Devils were up 2-0, thanks to a penalty shot goal scored by MacKinnon, the third line center who’d been having herself an impressive series. The cherry on top was a shorthanded empty net goal scored by Miller from inside her own crease with just over a minute left in the third and the Rangers in desperation mode.

Waverly was certain that the crowd hadn’t quieted down for even one second from the first puck drop to the final horn when it became official that the Devils would be moving on to the Conference Final. She’d found herself peeking over at Nicole from time to time, making sure that her headache or her body wasn’t too much. She knew Nicole would never tell her, especially when this was the first real outing she’d had since her injury, and she’d have to check on the woman herself. The redhead looked appropriately tired, but didn’t show any real signs of pain, which Waverly counted as a victory.

Nicole fell asleep in the backseat of the Jeep on the drive back to the homestead, exhausted from the day, and Waverly pats herself on the back a little smugly knowing she was right to make Nicole take a nap before the game. Waking Nicole once she pulled up to the home was easier than waking Wynonna in the morning, but not by much—both girls had sleeping like the dead in common. Both Waverly and Nicole did little else than snuggle into the bed once they got inside, finding a comfortable position to sleep while being careful not to jostle Nicole’s injuries. Waverly fell asleep pretty much immediately after her head hitting the pillow.

It had been a good day; felt like another step in the right direction on the road to Nicole’s recovery.

She felt like absolute garbage (mainly because she’d been _completely_ unaware it had happened) when she woke Thursday morning to see tear tracks faintly streaking down Nicole’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter than I originally planned, but better inspiration (hopefully) has struck for the next chapter! As always, thank you to everyone who has read and continues to read and for the kind words, I appreciate you all coming on this journey with me :)


	21. From the High to the Low to the End of the Show (?)

_“…Pressman tries to dangle through and loses the puck—Drillers counter with a 3-on-1… and the Drillers score! Candace Bishop makes it 2-1 with just over ten minutes left in the third…”_

Wynonna pushed her way through the doorway of the homestead eagerly after an unbelievably boring day at the rink. With the Devils out of town in Edmonton for games three and four, the arena was practically empty, and Doc’s texting ability was severely lacking. She’d found herself hoping for a beer league game or _something_ to liven the experience up, but all she got all day was inventory and ordering, and organizing. It never occurred to her how much work Nicole actually lifted off of her and Waverly until the workload was put back on their shoulders.

Nicole had convinced Waverly to go back to work at the arena, Waverly only agreeing under the condition that either she or Wynonna be home to supervise Nicole at all times. The redhead fought this, of course, and grumbled that she didn’t need a babysitter, but caved when Waverly stood up crossing her arms and quite literally putting her foot down. The result of this being that things took twice as long to get done around the rink due to the limited workforce.

The only sliver of interest in Wynonna’s day was the official looking envelope that came in the mail, addressed to Nicole. In a very un-Wynonna-like move, she decided that Nicole should open her letter herself, no matter how much she _so badly_ wanted to see what kind of mail she was getting from the league office. Last time it had been an all-star invitation, and Wynonna was curious to see if it was similar excitement.

“Honey, I’m home!” she cheered as she entered the home, finding Nicole on the couch with the Devils game playing. The redhead made no acknowledgement of Wynonna’s presence, only continuing to stare blankly ahead at the screen. Wynonna found it weird that Waverly was nowhere in sight, and stepped curiously further into the room. “Haught?”

_“…Hastings cross-ice to White, over to Arthur…her shot WIRED by Lauren Miller to give the Drillers a 3-1 lead. Wow! Two goals twenty-eight seconds apart…”_

When Nicole still didn’t acknowledge her presence, Wynonna tossed the letter at her, hitting her best friend in the face.

“Ow! Jesus Wynonna.” Nicole cursed, glaring at Wynonna. “What the fuck?”

Nicole’s response had been like a switch had flipped; going from completely on another planet to all there in zero seconds flat. Over the week Nicole was out of the hospital, Wynonna quickly observed that Nicole’s spaciness came and went, and like most things, was more noticeable later on in the evening and at night.

“Mail came for you.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Nicole scoffed. “Must you throw it at me?”

“Yes I must,” she smirked mischievously, taking the empty seat on the couch. “Open it. I wanna see your fancy league mail.”

“Wait, I wanna wait for Waverly.”

“Speaking of,” Wynonna probed, not remembering a time (even before the accident) where the two weren’t attached at the hip, “where _is_ your better half?”

“I convinced her I could handle myself long enough for her to take a shower.”

“Mhm. I definitely got that from the way you had no idea I walked in the door—I could’ve been a burglar, coming to burgle you.”

“Technically you would’ve been burgling yourself, this is _your_ home.”

“Shut up. Open,” she said, snatching the letter from Nicole’s hands and waving it vigorously in front of her face.

“No, I wanna wait for Waverly,” Nicole said, firmly holding her ground.

“Wait for Waverly for what?” The woman in question asked, appearing in the den, still towel-drying her hair.

“I got a letter from the league office.”

“Hmm, I wonder what it could be.” Waverly hummed, coming to join the two on the sofa, practically forcing her way in between Nicole and Wynonna, pushing the latter off the couch. Wynonna huffed and crossed her arms in mock incredulity.

“ _How rude.”_ She sneered, earning an eye roll from her sister and her best friend. She got up off the floor and sat on the opposite side of Nicole.

Nicole tore open the envelope, yawning slightly as she did so. She scanned the letter first, squinting at the letters before sighing and handing the paper to Waverly, frowning at the fact her head hurt too much to focus on the letters. (Not that she should’ve been reading anything so soon after a concussion anyway).

Waverly cleared her throat dramatically, with an air of importance as she began to read:

“ _Dear Miss Haught,_

_The Canadian Elite Women’s Hockey League commends you and your teammates on a hard-fought season. The league’s Board of Directors has recognized your contributions to your team and your outstanding performance over the course of this year’s regular season. As a result, I am proud to announce the members of the All-CEWHL First Team:_

**_G: Alexia Soucy, Peg City Pirates_ **

**_D: Georgette Thayer, St. John’s Ice Dogs_ **

**_D: Margarite Boudreau, Trois-Rivieres Navagatrices_ **

**_LW: Candace Bishop, Edmonton Drillers_ **

**_RW: Shae Pressman, Purgatory Blue Devils_ **

**_C: Nicole Haught, Purgatory Blue Devils_ **

****

_And the members of the CEWHL All-Rookie Team:_

**_G: Marie Williams, Sherbrooke Black Widows_**

**_D: Leanne McCarthy, Moncton Cougars_ **

**_D: Kendra Lewis-Black, Summerside Islanders_ **

**_LW: Jenna Boardman, Purgatory Blue Devils_ **

**_RW: Annie Burns, Kelowna Grizzlies_ **

**_C: Nicole Haught, Purgatory Blue Devils_ **

****

Furthermore, we are excited to announce that you are among the three finalists for the **Hilda Ranscombe Trophy** honoring the league’s most outstanding first-year player, and the **Shirley Cameron Trophy** honoring the league’s Most Valuable Player.

_We cordially invite you to the CEWHL Awards celebrating this season’s excellence, held in Calgary, Alberta on Sunday, June 9 th. _

_Congratulations again on all you have achieved._

_Sincerely,_

_Eliza R. Shapiro_

_CEWHL League Commissioner”_

“Dude,” Wynonna shouted, nudging an elbow gently into Nicole’s left side, “you’re a fucking stud. I mean, you’re no _me_ , but who is?”

“Wynonna?” Nicole said.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.” The redhead silenced Wynonna, eyes trying to scan the letter, still in disbelief.

“I’m so proud of you baby.” Waverly placed a kiss on Nicole’s right temple. “I’ll book the flight in the morning.”

Nicole looked at Waverly hesitantly, eyes uncertain.

“Waves, maybe hold off on that. I don’t know if I should go.”

“Haught, did you pop one too many of your painkillers?” Wynonna interjected.

“I actually haven’t taken any since this morning,” the redhead frowned, brow furrowed.

“Alright so then you’re actually clinically insane. Why the _fuck_ wouldn’t you go to the Awards?”

“Well,” Nicole shrugged, “I don’t know. What if my leg hurts too much? Or it’s too loud—there’s gonna be a lot of people there. Or, or…it’s not like I’m even gonna actually win any of those awards anyway, so why go?”

Waverly opened her mouth to say something comforting or reassuring, but Wynonna held up a finger to stop her sister. She’d handle this.

“Nicole, you’re my best friend, so I mean this with all the love in the world—you’re being a big dumb ginger right now.” Wynonna said, earning a scowl from the redhead. “Don’t give me that look, and _do not_ give me that bullshit about how you won’t win the award, you wouldn’t have been nominated or be in the final three if you didn’t deserve to win it.”

Nicole paused, biting the inside of her cheek, and wanting to fight back, but couldn’t fight the older Earp. Wynonna prided herself on telling it like it is. She was effectively convincing.

“Well what about the flight? I don’t wanna hold up security because I’ve got metal rods in my leg.”

“Then we’ll drive, the awards are in Calgary, that’s practically our backyard,” Waverly offered as a solution.

Nicole mulled over the information, searching for a valid excuse and not finding one, before relenting with a groan. “ _Fine_ , I’ll go.”

Waverly clapped with joy, leaning over to kiss Nicole as a sign of congratulations.

\---

They were all hoping that attending the awards would’ve been made sweeter by the addition of a league championship, but the Devils were sorely outmatched in their Conference Final series, winning game one before losing four straight to the Edmonton Drillers. The Cinderella story was cut short, and Wynonna could see the look on Nicole’s face showing her disappointment and frustration that she couldn’t do anything to help her team. Wynonna felt for the redhead, knowing that Nicole probably _could_ have made a difference. The Devils gave a valiant effort, but they’d barely beaten the Pirates, and were offensively challenged without Nicole—the Drillers made it look easy the way they dismantled the Blue Devils.

 _Such is life_ , Wynonna thought, _sometimes it really is a backpack of balls._

Wynonna was already planning on going to the awards with Waverly and Nicole when she was pleasantly surprised by Doc asking her to be his plus one to the event. The two sat beside her sister and Nicole, the whole row of seats reserved for the nominated Devils members. She couldn’t believe the size of the arena they were in. An actual NHL arena was quite the step up from any of the barns in their league. From just over Waverly’s shoulder, Wynonna could hear Nedley going on and on to Chrissy and Nicole about the times he played here (when it was the _Olympic Saddledome_ and not “pimped out” to big business, he said pointedly— _“Scotiabank Saddledome? Ridiculous.”)_

The event was filled with the league’s stars, upper management, a few brands trying to secure new clients for sponsorships, and a handful of lesser-known celebrities who were big fans of the league to present awards.

The show opened with a montage of highlights from the season, Nicole, Shae and Jenna showing up on more than one occasion. The reel ended with a recap of the playoffs, thankfully leaving out player injuries, concluding with Clara Martel’s OT winner in game seven of the McCallion Cup finals to lift the Ice Dogs over the Drillers for the title. 

“Welcome, everyone to this year’s celebration of the Canadian Elite Women’s Hockey League,” Commissioner Shapiro took to the stage following the conclusion of the video. “On behalf of the entire league, I would like to extend my congratulations to all players, coaches, trainers, team doctors, and front office staff for their achievements and part in making this past season so successful and entertaining to the fans. And to the fans, I say thank you for your support, because without you all, none of us would be here.”

Shapiro gave way to her Deputy Commissioner to introduce the first award of the night—the Danielle Goyette Trophy for the player who put up the most points, an award Shae had finished second for last season, and one Nicole finished third for this year. This year’s winner was Candace Bishop of the Edmonton Drillers. Her acceptance speech was followed by a popular hockey podcaster presenting the Jayna Hefford Trophy to the player who scored the most goals this season, this year’s honor going to one Shae Pressman. The crowd cheered for Shae as she took the stage, the Devils’ section being especially rowdy. Shae stood behind the massive trophy and thanked the league for the honor and her teammates and coaches who “made me look good out there” before returning to her seat with a plaque engraved with her name on it.

The next few trophies were voted on by the league board and a panel of the coaches and presented after announcing the finalists before announcing the winner. The goalie from the Pirates won the top prize the league had to offer its netminders: the Manon Rheaume Trophy, and Georgette Thayer from St. John’s took home the Geraldine Heaney Trophy for the league’s best defender. When the Fran Rider trophy for GM of the year was awarded to Purgatory’s own Xavier Dolls, his speech was as professional and detached as the man gave off on a regular basis, though Wynonna clocked what _may_ have been maybe a hint of the beginning of a smile betray his naturally stoic features. Nedley’s speech, accepting the Herb Fach Trophy as head coach of the year, was much more engaging and _so_ Nedley, what with it being laced with dad jokes and references Wynonna was surprised he even knew.

“Now, we move onto the last two, _biggest_ two, awards of the night,” Commissioner Shapiro said as she retook the stage. “First, the CEWHL awards the Hilda Ranscombe Trophy to honor the league’s best first year player, a young player who stood out above all the rest of her peers to contribute to her team’s success. This year the field of rookies was immensely deep with talent and skill, making the selection of the finalists that much harder. After consulting with the Board of Directors and all twenty-eight head coaches, we concluded on these three finalists. Let’s take a look at the year they had…”

The big screen on stage showed a short montage of each finalist, starting with Kelowna’s Keyha King, a rough and tough defender with a cannon of a shot and a body check that could send you through the glass if she felt like it. They highlighted a couple of her goals and her biggest hits in a small montage before displaying her season statistics—a respectable 19 goals and 25 assists. The second finalist was Charlottetown’s Karolyne Sutherland, whose montage highlighted her playmaking and her statistics showing her 9 goal and 37 assist effort for the year.

Nicole was the third finalist, obviously, and it hardly felt like anyone needed to be reminded of her performance this year, though they showed her montage and flashed her 36 goals and 55 assists across the screen anyway. Wynonna felt like everyone in the room knew who was going to win this one.

“And this year’s Rookie of the Year trophy goes to…” the commissioner paused for effect as she opened the envelope (very _People’s Choice Awards_ of them, Wynonna snickered to herself), “Nicole Haught of the Purgatory Blue Devils.”

She wasn’t sure if she or her sister cheered louder when they heard the announcement, Nicole sitting frozen in apparent disbelief. Waverly had to nudge Nicole to get up to accept her award.

Wynonna watched the redhead as she climbed the steps to the stage with her crutches, patting herself on the back for practically forcing Nicole to learn to climb the stairs at the homestead in preparation for this very moment. (It _may_ have been out of selfish motivation, mainly because she wanted to sleep in her own bed again, but hey, look where it had gotten Nicole now).

Wynonna was certain she was going to vomit at the way Waverly was honest to god _drooling_ over Nicole in the suit she’d chosen for the event—a fresh little navy-blue number that fit maybe a little too perfectly. She’d thought she was going to need to leave the room while Waverly was braiding Nicole’s hair back at the homestead, what with the way her sister looked like all she wanted to do was tear that suit right off of Nicole’s body. (But, Wynonna did have to call a spade a spade and agree that Nicole had _no_ business looking good in that outfit). Nicole fumbled with the microphone on the podium for a moment, looking mildly uncomfortable for more reasons than just her injuries, and Wynonna laughed as the sound of microphone feedback sounded through the arena. _Stupid fucking idiot_.

“I uh, wow,” Nicole said once she seemed to have the whole microphone thing figured out, “this is the _last_ thing I expected. Most days I still can’t believe I was even drafted, so this,” she motioned toward the trophy on the table next to her for effect, “this is…wow.”

 _Jesus Haught, I know you hit your head, but come on, form an actual sentence_ , Wynonna thought, though she was the first one to cheer when there was a pause in Nicole’s speech (if you could call it that).

“I just wanted to say thank you to the league, to the Blue Devils and Sheriff Nedley for taking a chance on me, to my teammates who made all of this possible,” the redhead picked up, seemingly having re-accessed her vocabulary. “And, most importantly to my family—my true family, for your support and your tough love and, _gah,_ everything, I _literally_ wouldn’t be here without any of you. Thank you.”

As Nicole moved to step away from the podium, she was stopped by the commissioner walking over to seize the microphone. Wynonna furrowed her brow, thinking that this was going to become less _People’s Choice Awards_ and more _2017 Oscars_ and that Shapiro was going to say that they’d announced the wrong person as winner. The look on Nicole’s face seconded Wynonna’s sentiment.

“Thank you, Nicole. Now, as we move to the final award of the night, I would like to first acknowledge the finalists for the Cameron Trophy, honoring the player deemed most valuable to her team and whose contributions were most outstanding across the league,” the commissioner proceeded, but did not instruct Nicole to leave the stage as the other award recipients had been all night. “As you all know, the three finalists were Nicole Haught,” she motioned toward the player onstage, “and Purgatory Blue Devils forward Shae Pressman, and Candace Bishop of the Edmonton Drillers,” she acknowledged, though didn’t cut to any sort of special montage for what was easily the biggest award of the night. “Now I know that normally we bring the show to a conclusion with all the fanfare surrounding this award, but we have something unprecedented here,” Shapiro paused, the _oohing_ around the arena building the dramatic effect, “because for the first time ever, the recipient of the Shirley Cameron Trophy has also been named the league’s Rookie of the Year in the same season.”

Wynonna turned to her sister, both pairs of eyes wide as saucers.

_“Does this mean—”_

_“—I think so.”_

They both cheered excitedly in anticipation of the official announcement.

“So, let’s all join me in congratulating Nicole Haught on a marvelous season, earning her the title of Most Valuable Player.” The commissioner turned to Nicole who looked completely shellshocked, aghast, astonished, and just about every single synonym for shocked you could think of.

“I…I well, I’d say that it can only go up from here, but I’m not so sure that’s even possible,” Nicole shrugged. “The players in this league are all some of the most incredible players and athletes that I’ve ever seen, and wow, this is surreal. It very easily could’ve been either of the other two finalists—Candace, Shae, you guys are absolutely unreal. I’m honored, and still in disbelief, that I’m even in the same though as those two, never mind that I’m standing here accepting this award, so thank you. All of you. This is much better than any of my wildest dreams.”

\---

“You’re leaving the rink early today, right?” Waverly asked as she entered the kitchen.

“Yeah, why?” Wynonna mumbled through a mouthful of cereal.

“Because I’ve got to go into the city today, remember? Dolls is looking to upgrade some things around the rink and asked me to help him find things that will be most beneficial and look the best.”

She nodded, remembering how weird she thought it was that Waverly had to help Dolls, a man whose job it was to know and do these kinds of things himself. Though she supposed that maybe alien robots didn’t have quite the eye for human interior design that one might think they would.

“Mhm, yeah, I’ll be home before noon.”

“’Nonna, it’s ten o’clock,” Waverly said admonishing her sister.

“Excellent point babygirl, why even go in at all?”

“You are the reason Gus is always worried about that place going under.”

“ _Please,_ that place is practically a historical landmark, it’s not going anywhere.”

“So not the point,” Waverly rolled her eyes as she filled a to-go mug with coffee. “But that’s actually perfect, you can pick Nicole up from PT at the hospital.”

“Does she have gas money?” Wynonna toyed, swirling her spoon in the air absentmindedly.

 _“Wynonna.”_ Waverly said sternly.

“Kidding. Of course I’ll pick up my favorite little cripple.”

Waverly sighed heavily, staring Wynonna down—not intensely, but definitely hardening her gaze a bit.

“I think you should try to stop saying things like that around her,” her sister said bluntly, taking the seat across from her at the kitchen table.

Nicole had been in physical therapy to rehab her leg for about six weeks now. She’d gotten the rods removed from her leg on the Monday following the league awards and started PT a week and a half later. Wynonna liked to make small little chirps, very on brand to her humor, using terms like _peg-leg_ and _gimpy_ jokingly around Nicole. She figured that with everything that had changed for the redhead, at least one thing could remain consistent in her life—Wynonna Earp being a completely _not serious_ asshole.

“Oh come on, she knows I’m not serious.”

“That’s not the point,” Waverly said, tone serious. “Look, I can tell she’s frustrated that PT isn’t going as well as she wants it to. I can tell she’s scared, _terrified_ , that she’s never gonna play again, and you calling her a cripple doesn’t help.”

“Look, I’m glad you’re all looking out for her and what not, but have you considered that bubble wrapping her and treating her like she’s this fragile thing doesn’t help either? Waves, just think of everything that’s changed for her. It’s a very real possibility that she won’t play again. I know the doctors and physical therapists say that a _good_ recovery from something like this is walking with a limp, maybe with a cane. Everything has changed for her, but you know what doesn’t have to?” She paused, leaving space for Waverly to ponder the rhetorical question, “Me, being a sarcastic, teasing asshole.”

Waverly scrunched her face and grumbled unhappily.

“I hate that you’re right,” she grumbled after a minute. “Since when did you become all mature and well adjusted?”

“Hmmm,” Wynonna hummed, “how long have you been dating the redhead?”

Waverly rolled her eyes as she stood to head towards the door, “Whatever. Just make sure you’re there to pick Nicole up at noon.”

“Aye aye captain,” she agreed with a salute as Waverly told her she’d be back later on, probably no earlier than eight o’clock, and walked out toward her Jeep.

She’d understood Waverly’s concern, that she was just worried about her girlfriend. Hell, Wynonna was worried, too. But, she also knew what it was like to be staring down the barrel of losing a career in something you loved so much and knew that walking on eggshells around Nicole wasn’t going to change that. Honestly, it would probably only make it worse.

Wynonna pulled up to the hospital at 11:45, making this officially the first time Wynonna Earp was ever _early_ for something. (Her sister would’ve killed her if she wasn’t there at the _exact_ moment Nicole got out of therapy, and fear of the wrath of Waverly Earp was a more than powerful motivator).

Dr. Del Rey gave her a nod as she sat in the waiting area, Brandon the physical therapist behind him and Nicole trailing behind him, out of the cast, but still using crutches to take pressure off of the healing leg.

“Despite what she’ll tell you, today was a good day. Lots of good progress.” He told her as they waited for Nicole.

“She still giving you guys trouble?”

“If you’re asking if she’s kicked any more of our therapists, no she hasn’t.” He chuckled, bringing up one of Nicole’s sessions a few weeks ago where they were working resistance bands to regain knee strength and her leg slipped and ended up connecting with the technician.

“Well that’s good, but is she still unreceptive? I know Waverly said that she’s struggling with going through all the steps.”

“She’s gotten a little bit better, from what I’ve been present to see, but Brandon says she’s still frustrated with how slowly things are going.”

“She had a knee reconstruction _and_ rods holding her leg together, that takes time.” Wynonna acknowledged, which was pointing out the obvious to the literal expert.

“ _I_ know that, but if you think you can convince Red that she can’t just go hop right back out on the ice, I’d love your help.”

“She’s stubborn.”

“She’ll need it if she wants to get back out there.”

“Do you think she’ll be able to play again? Like seriously.” She asked, seeing it as a good segue into the topic.

“I won’t lie,” he brought his hand over his patchy beard, “most people recover only enough function to walk normally, never mind the agility and explosiveness needed in the sport.”

“Jesus, good luck telling Haught that.”

“My point is, I think that if anyone can get back, it would be her—as long as she follows the steps and trusts the process, no matter how long it takes.”

Wynonna nodded.

“We’ll make sure of it. I’ll give her a kick in the ass if she tries to go rogue.”

\---

After some initial struggle of getting Nicole up into (and back out of) Wynonna’s truck, the pair settled into the homestead. Wynonna helped herself to some of the leftovers in the fridge and settled down in front of the TV with a movie on while she left Nicole to do her own thing upstairs. She was flipping channels trying to find something to watch, leaving it on the Blue Jays game when she heard a crash from upstairs.

Wynonna sprung to her feet and practically flew up the stairs, anxious to see what she might find when she got to the top.

“Nicole?” She called, seeing the door to Waverly’s room closed. She received no answer. “Haught?” As she stepped closer to her sister’s door, she heard a groan come from the opposite direction—the bathroom. “You good in there, Haughtpants?”

“Yeah, fine and dandy, just peachy,” Nicole said, trying to be her normal cheesy self, but her voice was filled with more than mild discomfort.

“You sure?”

“Mhm, _ahh_ ,” Nicole hissed in pain, contradicting her words, “I’ll be out in just a— _fuck—_ second.”

“Nicole, you don’t sound good,” Wynona pressed, actually concerned by what might be behind the door. “I’m coming in, so you better be decent.”

“No, Wynonna, don’t—”

Nicole protested, but Wynonna was already barging through the door to find the redhead on the floor, her face twisted in a mixture of pain and embarrassment. A few of the things that normally sat on the sink were scattered across the floor, but nothing looked broken.

“Woah, Nicole, are you okay?” She asked, crouching down. “Be honest with me.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Nicole said, but winced again.

“You didn’t hit your head did you?” Wynonna tried to assess the situation. At least it looked like Nicole fell on her left side and not the bad, all broken and bruised up side.

“No. Seriously, I’m okay.”

“What even happened?”

“I wanted to take a shower because I was all sweaty and gross from PT,” she started to explain, and Wynonna noticed the change of clothes sitting on top of the toilet seat, “I sat down for a minute and I guess I stood up too fast and got a little dizzy, and… _timber_.”

Nicole tried to joke and make light of the situation, usually Wynonna’s calling card, but the older woman couldn’t bring herself to find the humor.

“Haught, you know it’s okay to ask for help.”

“You’re telling me you’d’ve been willing to help me shower?” Nicole challenged from her position on the floor.

“God no, that’s more Waverly’s department,” she teased, “I don’t need to see your pasty ass.”

“ _Exactly_ , so that’s why I tried to do it myself.”

“Look where that got you.” Nicole frowned at Wynonna’s words. Wynonna gave Nicole another look over, noticing the pain she was exhibiting, all but trembling as they conversed. “Come on, let me help you up. When did you last take your painkillers?”

“I don’t need them right now, I’m fine.”

“You’re fine?” Wynonna challenged.

“Mhm.”

“You might wanna tell your body and your face that.” Wynonna stood to open the medicine cabinet, finding the bottle of Nicole’s pain meds fuller than it should’ve been considering it’d been three weeks since it had been refilled. She’d had her suspicions, but now had confirmation. “Uh, Little Red Riding Hood, care to explain?”

“Explain what?”

“Explain to me why you’ve been skipping taking your painkillers, Naughty Haughty.”

“Because I don’t need them.”

“Come on, even you don’t believe yourself right now.”

“I’ve seen the way people get addicted to them, I don’t wanna even risk it.”

“People get addicted when they take them after they stop _needing_ them,” Wynonna said pointedly. “You very clearly need them, so stop torturing yourself and take it when you need to. You won’t get better any faster if you’re constantly in pain.”

“God you sound like such a mom right now,” Nicole scoffed. “It’s like I don’t even know you.”

“I’m just looking out for my stupid, stubborn best friend,” she said, stepping toward the redhead to pick her up off the floor before Nicole could even fight it. “Now what you’re gonna do, is take one of these,” she shook a painkiller from the orange bottle, “drink some water, and go lay down and you can shower and be gross with my sister when she gets back later.”

“Thank you, Wynonna,” Nicole mumbled from where Wynonna had sat her down on the toilet seat. It was barely louder than a whisper, but Wynonna heard it all the same.

\---

Wynonna learned pretty early in life not to expect the universe to make her life normal or uncomplicated.

That’s why she wasn’t exactly surprised that there was another crash from upstairs later on in the evening, Waverly still not returned from the city. She groaned as she removed herself from the couch, but didn’t sprint upstairs like she had earlier. The door to Waverly’s room was open this time, and Wynonna could see the aftermath of someone’s rage from where she stood in the hallway.

“Nicole?” She supposed she should stop, considering she never got an answer when she called. At least this time the source of the noise was coming from the room. She stepped into her sister’s room taking in its disheveled state.

The duvet had been pulled completely off the bed and the pillows and blankets met a similar fate, being thrown haphazardly onto the floor. Wynonna quickly understood what was going on when she saw Nicole’s award plaques and team photos scattered on the floor. That had to have been the crashing she’d heard. And then there was Nicole, sitting in front of the mirror, a pair of scissors in her hand, eyes wild and red with tears, holding a lock of her hair between the shears, but not yet making the cut.

“Woah, hey, Nicole.” She approached calmly, having been on the redhead’s end of a mental breakdown one too many times. “Hey, whatcha doin’?” No answer. “You know, Purgatory’s got some great hair salons—well, not great per se, but they are hair salons, technically—I could book you an appointment, no need for the DIY.”

One she took one step closer, Nicole brought the shears closed, and they both watched as red hair fell to the floor. Well, there was no going back now.

“I’m not her. I’m not her. I’m not her.” Nicole chanted under her breath. An odd mantra, Wynonna remarked.

“You’re not _who_ , Nicole?” she tried.

“ _Her._ ” Nicole shifted her eyes to the photos and her awards.

_Oh._

“Well, actually, you are. Unless you’re living some sort of double life Waves and I don’t know about.” Wynonna jested. “You’re not some sort of Russian spy, are you?”

“No.” Nicole said, though Wynonna’s words were distracting enough to allow the older woman time to take the scissors away before any more hair became a casualty. “But I’m not that girl. I’m not that rookie of the year, that _MVP_ —if I can’t play again, I’m not her. I’m not _me._ ”

Wynonna’s heart broke, seeing the fight normally in Nicole’s eyes so blatantly absent.

“Who’s saying you can’t play again?”

“No one’s _saying_ it, but everyone _knows_ it.” Nicole snapped hopelessly. “It’s been six weeks Wynonna, and I can barely walk down the hallway or up a flight of stairs.”

“Dude. Shut up.” She said sternly; Nicole was taken aback by the straightforwardness. “You had your entire leg broken and put back together, it’s not magically gonna go back to normal overnight. It takes time. Dr. Bobo said you’re making great progress. Just don’t rush it. It’ll come if you trust the process.”

“Even if I do get back, what if I’m not the same?”

“You won’t be.”

“Real comforting.” Nicole rolled her eyes.

“I’m not gonna sugar-coat it for you. You’re gonna be different, but different doesn’t have to equal worse. Look at Shan and Vic, they had knee surgery and worked hard to get back and now they’re smarter, tougher players for it.” Wynonna said, but Nicole looked unconvinced. “Look, I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but I know you and I know how much you love this game and how much it means to you. Don’t let this little pity party or identity crisis get in the way of you getting back to where you want to be.”

“It’s annoying when you’re right.” Nicole grumbled yet again, voice starting to water along with her eyes. “I thought I was supposed to be the level-headed one in this relationship.”

“Well, figured it was high time to flip that dynamic over for a bit.”

Nicole smiled at her, but let tears escape her eyes as she buried her head into Wynonna’s shoulder.

“I’m scared, Wynonna.”

“I know. But you’ll get through it. I’m here for you, and you _know_ Waverly is too, and all your teammates and Nedley and Doc and everyone is in your corner, Haught. Let us help you.”

Nicole nodded against Wynonna’s shoulder. (She could feel the ginger’s tears soaking the material of her shirt, but chose to ignore it for now).

After a few moments of letting Nicole cry, the redhead picked up her head to look in the mirror.

“Oh god, my hair.” She gasped at the lopsided mess she created by cutting off such a big chunk.

“Yeah, not your best choice,” Wynonna teased. “Why’d you do that anyway?”

“I wanted a change. Everything’s been so out of my control and so crazy, and this was something I could actually control.” Nicole sighed, and Wynonna eyed her. “ _And_ , it’s embarrassing having to have my girlfriend braid my hair every morning.”

“I thought you’d be all over that,” she snickered, “you know, since you’re all grossly in love and all that shit.”

“Shut up. I _would_ like to have some autonomy in my life.”

And then Wynonna was struck with an idea. She wasn’t any sort of professional, but she knew what a straight line looked like (more or less).

“Oh! I know. Give me the scissors.”

Nicole handed her the scissors cautiously, eyeing the brunette as Wynonna took them from her and spun her around.

“Wynonna, what’re y—”

_Snip._

“Shhhh,” she silenced her. “I swear to god you’re only here to interrupt my artwork, huh?”

_Snip. Snip. Snip._

“No, I just think I should know what you’re doing with scissors so close to my hea—”

“—and _voila!_ ”

Wynonna turned Nicole back to the mirror and smiled proudly as Nicole stared wide-eyed at her newly shortened hair, running her hand along the bottom of the shoulder-length locks.

“This is so much better than I imagined it would look.”

“I’d definitely look into seeing a professional to touch it up, but, yeah—”

“—Shut up Wynonna. Thank you.”

“Okay okay,” Wynonna relented, allowing Nicole to give her a hug. (She pretended to be grossed out by the affection, but deep down they both knew that she enjoyed it). “But for the record, all I did was make you a little less red, same amount of _Haught_.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

And maybe she was, but they were both a little ridiculous. That’s what made their friendship work.

Their friendship had surprised Wynonna the most, even if she’d been the one to initiate it. Nicole was the newbie who followed all the rules, usually to an annoying extent, and she was the old-timer, town pariah who saw rules as a mere suggestion. She’d never thought that over the course of the last ten months that they’d become as thick as thieves. Maybe she owed it partly to Nicole’s relationship with Waverly, but she also knew that there was something about their friendship that clicked. Aomething that just worked. Kind of like the way Yin and Yang worked. (Curse Waverly and her hippie, Zen, knowledge bullshit). It was actually a perfect analogy. For how different the two of them were, they had just enough in common that connected them, allowing them to benefit from each other’s differences. She’d noticed here and there the way that she thought twice about breaking one of the arena rules or skipping one of her duties, or the way she’d have one of those stupid bumper sticker phrases in her head for days because of Nicole. And, she’d noticed the way that Nicole had become less uptight and more receptive to loosening her stranglehold death grip on the rules, especially when the two of them had tossed back a couple cold ones.

Being a girl who had a bad reputation around these parts made it hard for Wynonna to form any sort of lasting relationship or make any real friends. But here she was with her family (both the blood relatives and her found family) and a (mostly) stable relationship with Doc, and things were _good,_ like actually, truly good. Nicole was her best friend, and she was Nicole’s; it was one of the things she was proudest of in her life.

Nicole yawned signaling that she’d had enough for one day. Wynonna helped her up and assisted her with her routine before Nicole got into bed and knocked out pretty much immediately. Wynonna picked up most of the stuff that had been tossed to the floor and cleaned up the chopped off red hair and the bits of broken glass from the picture frames. She turned off the bedside lamp and closed the door gently, practically knocking Waverly over when she turned to walk back downstairs.

“Woah, hey, everything okay?” Waverly asked once they were both steady on their feet.

“Yeah, fine actually.”

“How’s Nicole? How was her PT?”

_How is Nicole? Well that was a question, now wasn’t it?_

“Dr. Del Rey said she’s coming along well, even if she doesn’t see it.”

“That’s good,” Waverly nodded. “How about the rest of the day? Did you guys have a good day?”

“Yeah, yeah, it was good.” She said, though she could tell her voice betrayed her and Waverly wasn’t buying it.

“ _Wynonna,”_ she pressed.

“Okay, _okay._ It was a good day, their _might’ve_ been an incident this afternoon—nothing major, just she fell down in the bathroom—”

“—She fell down in the bathroom!?”

“ _She fell down in the bathroom,”_ Wynonna repeated, ignoring the interruption, “but we talked, and I checked her out and she’s _fine._ She needs a shower, but she’s fine.”

She could tell Waverly wanted to ask all the details but had changed her mind and decided to trust Wynonna instead.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Other than that it was a good day?”

“Yeah, up until she had a mental breakdown and kinda trashed your room.”

“Jeez Wynonna, why didn’t you tell me, or call?”

“Because I had it handled. Before when she fell, and again when she went all _Hulk Smash_ on her photos and awards. She’s _fine_ , so there was no need to worry you,” Wynonna tried her best to sound soothing and ease her sister’s nerves, but she knew that Waverly wouldn’t relax until she saw for herself that Nicole was okay. She stepped out of Waverly’s path to the door, her sister eager to go inside. “She’s asleep right now, but I’m sure she’d love whatever gross cuddling you’re gonna try. Just a head’s up,” she held her hand up to stop Waverly for just a second, “we may or may not have gone all Jonathan Van Ness on her hair, but that’s just a sign of how good a day we had.”

“God you two are ridiculous,” Waverly rolled her eyes as she entered the bedroom.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Wynonna said, smirking to herself as she walked back downstairs to her own bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big sorry for being two days late, but here we are 21 chapters later! Thanks as always for standing by this story :)


	22. (Jealousy is) A Green-Eyed Blonde

“Nicole Haught, you are the most difficult patient have ever had the displeasure of working with,” her PT said as they returned to the therapy room, Nicole practically skipping past the man.

“Oh, Brandon don’t go breaking my heart now,” She responded dramatically, swinging her legs back and forth as they dangled off of the treatment table.

Nicole wasn’t usually one to toot her own horn, but here she was, tooting it anyway.

It wasn’t a forgone conclusion that she’d be able to walk normally again, but after getting her head out of her ass and putting her nose to the grindstone, she progressed at what had to be a record pace. Nothing was going to stop her, not her leg, not the stupid stairs and definitely not Brandon the physical therapist.

She’d come a long way since her first session, where the only thing she could focus on was the dread and feeling that she’d never play hockey again. (Well, that and the irony of getting stuck with a therapist named _Brandon_ ). Sure, she still had pain after especially long days, but now sixteen weeks later, the limp was becoming less and less noticeable with each passing day.

“No, I mean it, you’ve aged me. I’m 27 and I’ve found four grey hairs since I started working with you—one for each month,” Brandon continued just as dramatically, holding up four fingers for emphasis. “ _Or_ for each time you kicked me.”

“Dude, I already apologized for that.”

“I know, I know. Now, shut up, I’m trying to be sentimental.” Nicole made a zipping motion across her lips, waiting for Brandon to proceed. “ _Now as I was saying_ , Nicole Haught, you are the single most difficult, infuriating, stubborn patient I have ever had the displeasure of working with, _but_ you have come so far from day one, that I’m proud to say I was a part of helping you get here. And dare I say, I might actually miss you, Big Red.”

“Aww, Mr. Drill Sergeant has a heart after all,” she teased.

“Yeah, yeah. Now go on, get out of here to that girl of yours, and I really don’t wanna have to see you back here,” Brandon pointed a warning finger in her face. “Seriously, Bobo will have my head if you go screwing up all the work he did on that leg. Dude actually compared the work he did on you to Michelangelo sculpting _David_.”

Nicole rolled her eyes because _of course_ the crazy surgeon would.

“Sir, yes sir. Thank you Brandon, seriously.”

“Yeah yeah. Go on now.” He waved her out, and she walked down the hallway, expecting to see Waverly, but getting Wynonna instead.

She frowned slightly, really looking forward to seeing her girlfriend after completing the last of her post-op physical therapy.

“Wow, don’t look so happy to see me, Scherzinger.”

“Scherzinger?”

“Scherzinger,” Wynonna nodded, but offered little clarification. “As in _Nicole_ Scherzinger. Of the Pussycat Dolls?”

“I know who Nicole Scherzinger is,” Nicole said, following Wynonna out of the door and out to the truck. “As far as nicknames go, definitely not one of your best.”

Wynonna grumbled a _fuck you_ under her breath as she started up the truck.

“Where’s Waverly?”

“She keeps getting more and more work handed to her by Dolls. I really think he’s getting close to offering her a real job in the organization.”

“He better,” Nicole agreed, “she’s basically doing his job for him at this point.”

Since the first set of errands Waverly had run with Dolls back in July, she’d increasingly been handed more responsibilities outside of rink operations. By mid-August, she’d known more of the ins and outs of the team than Nicole did; now in October with the season set to kick off in three days, Waverly was busier than ever.

Seemingly always knowing when Nicole was thinking of her, Waverly sent her a text message, which was opened immediately.

 **Waves** **😇💜: Hi baby, I am SOSOSOSOSO SORRY for not being there for your LAST DAY of physical therapy. I just want you to know that I am SO PROUD of how far you’ve come, and when I get home we’re going to celebrate that. I love you** **❤**

Nicole replied right away, returning the feeling and the love, smiling like an idiot at her phone. Wynonna scoffed and teased her from the driver’s seat, but Nicole didn’t really care.

She was so appreciative of Waverly’s strength, even when Nicole could tell she was at her wits end with the redhead. Now that she was in a much better place, Nicole’s biggest regret was the way she pushed everyone’s help away—not being receptive to Brandon’s instructions, shutting out and ignoring Vic and Shan, snippy one-word answers to any questions Jeremy tried to ask her, her mental breakdown in front of Wynonna, and especially to Waverly for the cold shoulders one minute and the yelling and screaming and self-pity the next. It may have been hard for Nicole (since she was the one who had her world flipped on its head), but that didn’t mean that everyone around her didn’t suffer too. She realized that now, and understood that she was incredibly lucky and incredibly _undeserving_ of people who stuck by her even when she hardly resembled the woman that they knew.

“Wynonna, can we make a stop real quick?” Nicole asked as the truck drove along the road, nearing the little family-owned grocery store that Waverly loved.

Wynonna protested, but relented when Nicole promised her she’d buy the woman not one, but two boxes of the brightest, most synthetically processed, sugariest cereals with the cartoon characters on the front that Waverly _never_ allowed in the house. Sometimes Nicole couldn’t believe Wynonna was older than both her and Waverly.

In and out in less than twenty minutes, Nicole found everything she needed with relative ease and Wynonna drove them back to the homestead.

The redhead quickly jumped into the shower, changed into that navy blue button down that Waverly adored, and then headed to the kitchen to get started. Waverly texted her that she’d be back around 5:30, and Nicole was determined to have dinner prepared and sitting on the table when her love walked through the door.

“Ooh, what’s cookin’ Chef Haught…” Wynonna popped into the kitchen, looking excitedly over the ingredients until her eyes landed on the tofu/walnut mixture lying on a baking sheet, “…you know, besides a botched science experiment.” Nicole rolled her eyes in amusement at the way Wynona turned up her nose.

“I found a vegan taco meat recipe online and I wanted to make dinner for Waverly.”

Wynonna snorts to herself, but doesn’t comment.

“Well, I was excited for your cooking, but now I’m glad I accepted Doc’s offer.”

“Which was what, a bottle of whiskey and cheap Chinese takeout?”

“Well, I’m sorry Nicole, but some of us don’t have lesbian lovers to cook us vegan tacos,” Wynonna quipped back. “Besides, I happen to like whiskey and wontons.”

“I’m happy for you,” Nicole smiled, “I’m just saying, at some point you should get around to teaching him how to use chopsticks. I’m tired of watching him almost cut his tongue on his knife.”

“I quite like his little idiosyncrasies,” Wynonna said, looking quite proud, “I used that one right, right?”

“Yes Wynonna.”

“Great, I keep trying to keep up with Doc’s vocabulary, but he talks like he’s a hundred and fifty, and it’s so hard to understand what he means half the time.”

“I think you’re doing just fine— _motherfucker_ ,” she hissed, snapping her hand away from the hot tray she pulled from the oven just moments ago. Wynonna sniggered at Nicole’s misfortune.

“Well, good luck with that,” she motioned toward the dinner preparation going on, “I’ll be heading out. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Nicole answered, but Wynonna had already sprinted off to her truck.

As the time neared 5:30, she started to plate the tacos, topping them with the vegan sour cream she bought from the market. She set the table, complete with cheesy little candles, placing a single rose in the small vase she’d also found at the grocery.

She sprung up from the table excitedly (almost embarrassingly quickly) when she heard the sound of Waverly’s Jeep pull in. She met Waverly with a kiss at the door.

“Well someone’s in a good mood,” Waverly remarked once they’d pulled away and entered the house.

“Mhm, and even better now that I get to spend it with my gorgeous baby.”

“You flatter me, Nicole Haught,” Waverly smiled dreamily. “I actually have something to tell you.”

“You’re not breaking up with me are you?” Nicole teased.

“Well it would be pretty cruel to do that after that kiss, wouldn’t it?” Nicole supposed she had to agree. “So you know how Dolls has been giving me more and more things to do with the team?”

“Yeah.”

“Today, he asked me into his office, and offered me the job of Assistant Director of Hockey Operations.”

“Waves, that’s incredible!” Nicole cheered. “Tell me you accepted.”

“Of course I did. Apparently, he talked to Gus first, and we’re hiring more staff to fill jobs at the arena. So, I had no excuse to say no really.”

“Well, if anyone deserves this job it’s you,” Nicole embraced her girlfriend, leading them to the kitchen. “Looks like this dinner is a celebration.”

\---

 **PURGATORY SPORTS REPORT** **@JeremyC_PG**

SOURCES: Blue Devils nearing big signing; no names released yet

_7 OCT – 8:31 AM MST_

\---

 **TSN** **@TSN_Sports**

Many sources report that the Purgatory Blue Devils are close to a headline signing; The Devils could use a response to a lackluster free agency period following the retirement of defenseman Kym Greene, and the question marks surrounding the future of star forward, Nicole Haught.

_7 OCT—12:00 EST_

\---

On Monday, the day before the season was set to kick off, Waverly had a meeting with Dolls and Nicole was set to get to real hockey rehab, another step forward on her road back to playing. Nicole gave her girlfriend a hug and a kiss, wishing her luck on her first official day in her very important, very cool new job. (As far as Nicole was concerned, Waverly was the definition of adorable in her blazer, her hair done up in a pretty, professional ponytail, and smile spreading from ear to ear with excitement). As she turned down toward the training room, Nicole could’ve sworn she’d saw a familiar face, but brushed it off, knowing how unlikely it would be that she’d actually seen what she’d seen.

This first session with the training staff was more informational than anything else. Kate and Rosita would be running point on her rehab, meeting three days a week to start, building at whatever pace Nicole moved through the stages.

“Sign this,” Rosita ordered, holding a sheet of paper in front of Nicole at the end of the session.

“What is it?” She questioned, furrowing her brow.

“It’s a contract. It just states that just because we’re your friends,” Rosita said, Kate nodding alongside of her, “you won’t fuck around and bitch out on rehab when things get tough.”

“And it states that we won’t let you, either,” Kate added.

“I’m offended that you think I’d do that,” Nicole scoffed.

“You know as well as we do that rehab isn’t gonna be some walk in the park,” Kate said, softer and less upfront, “this is just a written promise that you can’t get pissed at us when we work you like a horse.”

Nicole laughed, but neither of the two trainers did.

“You guys are serious, huh?”

“Deadly,” they answered in unison.

“Fine,” Nicole sighed as she scrawled her signature across the bottom of the page.

Rosita and Kate smiled contently, adding their names below Nicole’s and dismissing her.

Nicole left the room, hearing the sound of Wynonna yelling at Champ for “gross irresponsibility”. She could only laugh, knowing that whatever Champ screwed up had to be really bad for _Wynonna Earp_ to be lecturing him on responsibility.

She neared Dolls’ office, knowing the meeting would surely have to be close to finished by now, and waited for Waverly. When the door finally opened, Waverly was the first one out but was still turned back into the office, waiting for the others. The occupants of the office walked out together, Waverly, Nedley, Dolls, and one of the last people Nicole would’ve expected to see.

_What the hell was she doing here?_

“Oh! Nicole, perfect,” Waverly cheered when she first saw Nicole. “I have exciting news.”

“Nicole Haught!” The blonde behind Waverly called out.

“Hannah?” She called back, meeting the woman for an excited embrace. “God, how long has it been?”

“Too long.”

“I know. What’re you doing here?”

“It may or may not have something to do with the exciting news Ms. Earp was talking about.”

“Oh please, just Waverly,” Waverly waved off Hannah’s formality, “but Hannah just signed her contract, as of about fifteen minutes ago she’s the newest member of the Purgatory Blue Devils.”

“ _Shut up!”_ Nicole could burst with excitement. “That’s incredible.”

“I was going to introduce you, but I see you already know each other,” Waverly said. “How exactly _do_ you know each other?”

Hannah and Nicole looked at each other, Nicole a bit more awkwardly than the blonde.

“We uh…” Nicole started, not sure how to word it, “we were teammates at UA.”

“Why’re you being so awkward about it Haught?” Hannah questioned and, turning to Waverly, said, “We _were_ teammates, but we also used to date.”

“O-oh, right,” the brunette said, just above a whisper. Nicole didn’t miss the way Waverly shifted awkwardly on her feet.

“Anyway, so exciting you’re here Han.”

“I know it. Super bummed I’m gonna have to wait to get back onto the ice with you though,” Hannah rested an elbow on Nicole’s shoulder.

“Hey, I’m workin’ on it, alright?”

“Well,” Waverly cleared her throat, “I’d better get going. Busy, busy, busy around here these days.”

She shuffled away, leaving Nicole and Hannah to catch up.

They’d come into UA together as freshmen, the program struggling after losing its best player (see: Shae Pressman) and four other key contributors to graduation. Both Hannah and Nicole saw significant playing time, and before long built a chemistry on the ice that was rare, especially considering Nicole was a center and Hannah was a defenseman. The chemistry the built quickly spilled over into off-ice activities and before long they’d become a bit of an item. They dated for the remainder of freshman year, even after the conclusion of hockey season, but ended things on good terms when Hannah transferred out to Boston College just before sophomore year started. Nicole had played four years at UA, struggling to build anything that came close to the chemistry she built with Hannah. Hannah on the other hand grew in stardom at BC, playing only that second year at the college before being drafted into the pro league in the States.

Nicole was happy to be reunited with a former teammate and excited for what that kind of talent would mean for the team. She just hoped she’d get to be a part of it sooner rather than later.

\---

 **CEWHL** **@CEWHL**

BREAKING NEWS—Purgatory Blue Devils agree to terms with Boston Pride (NWHL) star defenseman, Hannah Hastings. Details to follow.

_7 OCT—2:20 PM EST_

\---

 **PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

DONE DEAL: Hannah Hastings is Purgatory’s newest Blue Devil

_7 OCT—12:22 PM MST_

\---

 **PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

As if there were any doubt, Hannah looks good in Devils Blue

_8 OCT—10:00 AM MST_

\---

 **PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

Our newest signing greets the fans, making an immediate impact by scoring the Devils’ first goal of the season.

Blue Devils 1, Outlaws 0.

_8 OCT—8:00 PM MST_

\---

If Nicole wasn’t motivated to get back onto the ice before, she certainly was now. Playing with Hannah again wasn’t something Nicole had thought about in four years, but now that it was a possibility, she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t on her mind more often than not.

She’d made enough progress in her rehab after a few weeks for Rosita and Kate to throw her a bone, allowing her to lace her skates up, and go out onto the ice. It was far from game-level skating, more like a private public skate, slowly around the oval, but she’d definitely take it.

It had been a moment she’d been waiting six months for, and she’d really wanted Waverly to be there for it, but her girlfriend had her schedule booked out for the day with meetings and so Nicole put her knee brace on and tied up her skates alongside Rosita and Kate, trying not to let Waverly’s absence dampen the mood.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hannah called appearing from the tunnel, the Devils’ just getting out of practice for the day. “Looks like a party out here, what’s happenin’?”

“Bambi’s getting her first steps on the ice in six months is what’s happening,” Kate replied.

“Well, that is quite the momentous occasion, we gotta get it on video. If you all wait like two seconds, I can get my phone.”

The other three nodded, Nicole needing a moment to get reacquainted with the feeling of skates on her feet, adjusting to the new feeling of the braces she had on. Hannah reappeared a few minutes later, phone in hand and skates back on. Ready and raring to go, Rosita hit the ice first, followed by Kate, leaving Nicole standing at the bench doors looking straight out at the surface. She took a deep breath, very aware of the camera on her, and stepped onto the ice.

No words could accurately describe the feeling. Just six months without it and it had felt like a whole lifetime had passed, the feeling of blades on the ice. Her first steps were hardly steps, still not quite used to the motion. She figured it’d be like riding a bike, but she was _rusty_ , and probably did resemble Bambi in all honesty.

The other three cheered, and Nicole beamed straight into the camera as she caught Hannah’s smile following her slow steps. She felt like she might cry in all honesty. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

She was too caught up in the gravity and pure joy of the moment to realize she was pushing herself too fast, tumbling to the ice before she could register it was happening. She sat there frozen, groaning. Flashbacks of her second practice with the Devils came back to her mind. Somewhere from above (and behind her) she heard Rosita whisper-yell a command, _“Shut it off,”_ and she knew that Hannah had caught the fall on her camera as well.

“Nicole?” Kate called, her voice growing louder as she drew closer to the redhead.

She managed a nod, abundantly frustrated that her body couldn’t quite keep up with what she was trying to make it do.

It was neither Rosita nor Kate, however, who offered Nicole a hand to stand back up.

“Hey Nicky, looks like you stumbled there,” Hannah said bemused. Nicole quirked an eyebrow as if to say _“Really? Hadn’t noticed.”_ Hannah’s sarcasm was welcomed though, if Waverly had seen her fall, she’d have been a hundred shades of worried and probably would’ve tried to bubble wrap her. “Whaddya say we get you stood back up and send that faceoff dot to the box? Two minutes for tripping.”

The blonde’s smile was so sincere and so _Hannah Hastings_ that Nicole physically couldn’t be annoyed in that moment. She was still the same Hannah she’d met in Psych 101, even before hockey season even started; the blonde with the big green eyes who’d approached her on day one of the semester and introduced herself so confidently and charmingly. Nicole took the hand extended to her and slowly, carefully, got back to her feet.

Hannah’s hands lingered a moment on Nicole’s forearms, even after she’d steadied herself back on her feet.

“God, if I had nickel for every time I had to pick this one up freshman year,” Hannah teased Nicole to the other two trainers.

“Shut up, it didn’t happen _that much_ ,” Nicole defended.

“Probably happened too often for someone who’d become a professional, not to mention rookie of the year and MVP in the same season—congrats on that by the way though babes.”

Nicole rolled her eyes playfully, either not catching or choosing to ignore the way that the term of endearment so easily slipped from Hannah’s lips.

“Alright klutz,” Rosita chuckled, though began to take on a more serious tone, “are you okay?”

“Yep. Perfectly fine,” Nicole answered. She’d have a bruise on her left hip and one on her ego, but she was fine enough she figured.

“I need you to be like a million percent honest with me,” the trainer pressed, “don’t fuck around with things like this. If you’re hurt it could set back your recovery.”

“I really am fine, promise,” she answered, leaning on Hannah just ever so slightly. Taking a stride toward the bench, she didn’t even try to hide the wince. Maybe it hurt more than she originally realized.

“Alright we’re gonna kill this little adventure then.”

“Come on Nic, I’ll help ya over to the bench,” Hannah offered, not moving away from her side, and even helping her to undo the laces on her skates. It was something she could definitely do herself, but appreciated not having to put the effort in to bend down.

\---

 **PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

What’s this? Nicole Haught takes small steps on the ice, but giant strides in her road to recovery with her first time on skates in six months. (📽: IG/hannah.hastings49)

_29 OCT—3:57 PM MST_

\---

Nicole threw her keys into the dish by the door in the homestead that Waverly had _insisted_ on buying as a way to ensure that none of them (she said with a hard stare at both Nicole and Wynonna) tore the place apart looking for misplaced keys. As if that would work for the walking disaster that was Wynonna Earp.

One of the smaller excitements in Nicole’s recovery was the fact that she could take herself places once again, not relying on her girlfriend or best friend for rides like she was a high school sophomore again. Tonight, she’d been at the Devils’ game and went over to watch game film with Hannah, something they frequently did together after games in college, and picked right back up as the season got into full swing, despite the fact that Nicole wasn’t playing. She found it odd at first, but as a student of the game, she figured that while her body was still a work in progress, she could at least keep her mind sharp. (And, it gave her time to catch up with an old friend).

By the time they’d decided to call it a night, it was nearing 11 pm, and she’d almost had half a mind to accept Hannah’s offer to crash at her place. But, it had been a long day and she hadn’t seen Waverly since the morning when the smaller woman took off for the arena bright and early to prepare for the game. As she yawned and climbed up the steps, the only thing she was looking forward to was climbing into bed and cuddling up with her baby.

She tossed off her team hoodie and sweats, changing into her pajamas and peeling back the covers on what had become _their_ bed. Sensing the disturbance, Waverly rolled over, humming sleepily as she reached across the bed.

“Nicole?” She murmured, still very much under the influence of her slumber.

“Hi baby,” she whispered, taking Waverly’s hand in hers as she covered herself with the duvet.

“Wha’ time isit?” The brunette slurred.

“It’s late, shhh, go back to sleep.”

But Waverly didn’t go back to sleep; she sat up instead.

“I tried to wait up for you,” she said, words more coherent.

“I know, and I’m sorry I’m so late, Hannah and I got caught up watching film.”

“That’s good, I’m glad you guys are still friends,” was what Waverly answered, but Nicole sensed a bit of something she couldn’t quite name in her voice.

The conversation went on for a moment longer before Waverly yawned and announced she was going back to sleep, rolling over to turn away from Nicole. The redhead was dumbfounded and a little hurt when Waverly turned further away from her.

As expected, she didn’t get the greatest night sleep. She couldn’t for the life of her understand Waverly’s sudden change of attitude. Surely if she’d done something wrong, Waverly would’ve told her. She was up when her girlfriend’s alarm went off, stretching her tired limbs, yawning as Waverly swung herself out of bed with a _“Good morning”_ but little else before going over to the bathroom to kick off her morning routine.

 _Okay, still upset_ , Nicole concluded, _but about what?_

“I was thinking,” Nicole said once Waverly returned and started to dress for the day. “Devils have a rare day off, so maybe once you get off of work for the day we can treat ourselves to a nice dinner at that restaurant you like, or we could order in and watch, or _not watch_ , a movi—”

“—I’ve got wall to wall meetings today and tomorrow, Nicole.”

She’d said it so plainly and flatly that Nicole knew better than to suggest anything else.

Waverly was dressed and out of the house in a frenzy, leaving Nicole still insanely lost as to what she’d done to lead her girlfriend to act like this. She figured that whatever it was, it couldn’t have been relationship-destroying, considering the kiss (albeit quick and on the cheek) and “Love you” that Waverly said as she turned to run out the door.

\---

Three more weeks passed with no improvement on the Waverly front, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. Nicole had tried pretty much everything in the book, always getting a shrug or a “Can’t, super busy” from the woman. Nicole spent most nights up, wracking her brain as to what could’ve gone so wrong.

This wasn’t like them. They weren’t some dysfunctional couple that didn’t know how to communicate. They always talked things through, hardly ever letting a minor issue build into a major problem. They fought, that much was normal, but it wasn’t ever this serious. This was new ground for Nicole, and it was eating her alive.

Nicole was exhausted from lack of sleep and overwork of her mind, trying to wake herself up enough to give a good effort in her rehab session with Rosita and Kate. They hadn’t been back out on the ice since the one time, instead working on leg and core strengthening exercises. She’d been progressing at a steady rate—a snail’s pace, sure, but a steady pace regardless. They’d worked out a system for rehab where she’d come see the trainers three days a week, lifting and stretching and making strides toward her ultimate goal; on the other days, and the days the team was on the road, Nicole worked with Wynonna of all people.

(Wynonna, the usually lazy, unmotivated slacker, was surprisingly into the idea of _“getting ripped”_ with her best friend).

On her way to the training room, she was thoroughly bewildered by the scene she’d encountered—Waverly all but pinning Hannah against the wall, eyes wild and menacing.

“What is your problem?,” Hannah asked, annoyed and mostly puzzled by the outburst. “I said I was sorry.”

“Well, I don’t know who you think you are, coming in here and thinking you can just have whatever you want,” the brunette snapped. “News flash, _blondie_ , you’re not the queen of anything here so—”

“Woah, hey,” Nicole jumped in before Waverly got the murderous look in her eye, “Waves, what’s going on?”

“Princess here needs to realize that she doesn’t own the hallway,” Waverly straightened out her blazer and crossed her arms.

“Look, I bumped into her and I apologized right away, but she went zero to crazy in—”

“—Oh, girl you have not _seen_ crazy,” Waverly spat through gritted teeth as Nicole continued to hold the woman back.

“Waves, relax, it’s okay, it was an accident,” she tried to deescalate the situation. “Han, are you okay?” The blonde nodded, smoothing her hoodie back down from where it had bunched up during the interaction.

“ _Figures_ ,” Waverly scoffed and stormed away.

“What was that?” Han asked once Waverly was out of earshot.

“Fuck if I know,” Nicole breathed, staring down the hall Waverly disappeared down.

Her mind was reeling from the added layer of confusing Earp behavior from Waverly when she stepped in for her rehab session. She tried her best to focus her frustration and perplexity onto the exercises, but even after 45 minutes her mind was elsewhere, the exhaustion in her body not making anything easier. (Especially when you add the ache in her bones to the stress of whatever the fuck was going on). She was no athletic trainer, but she did know that she was _definitely_ not doing the exercises correctly.

“Aright, calm down Red,” Kate stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder to hold her back. “Stop before you hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine. C’mon, let me start again.”

“No you’re not,” the trainer handed her a towel to wipe the sweat away from her brow. “Have you seen yourself lately? You’re exhausted, you’re not doing the exercises correctly and you’re very clearly distracted. What’s eating at you?”

Nicole draped the towel over the back of her neck and let out a long, exasperated, possibly theatrical sigh.

“Waverly’s been weird—hard, cold, distant. She won’t say more than a few words at a time to me and will hardly ever let me touch her anymore. And, just before I came in here, I had to pull her away from Hannah before she went ballistic on her. The worst part is I have no idea what it is or how to fix it.”

Rosita and Kate shared a look, both fighting impossibly hard to hold back their laughter.

“You’re kidding right?” Kate arched her brow at the redhead. Nicole shook her head. _No, she very clearly was not kidding._ “Nicole, for such a smart girl, you really are a moron.”

“Hey!” She gasped, offended.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“It sure would help.”

“Waverly’s jealous.”

Nicole probably looked like the surprised face emoji in that moment. She was sure of it.

“Jealous? Of what?”

“God, I’d smack you upside the head if you didn’t just recently suffer a head injury.” Rosita butt in, unable to hold her tongue any longer.

“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How about the way you and Hannah have been _all over_ each other since she got here,” the Latina trainer said plainly. “Or the way she so shamelessly flirts with you, or the way you’re always spending time with her? Tell me, did your problems start around the time that blondie—your _ex—_ came around?”

“Yeah,” Nicole admitted, “but Hannah and I are just friends.”

“Does Hannah know that?”

“I-uh-well,” Nicole spluttered.

“How about this,” Rosita tried again. “Does she know that you and Waverly are dating?” 

Nicole deflated. _God, how could she be so stupid?_

“N-no. I-it never came up,” Nicole offered the weak excuse. “But, Hannah knows that me and her aren’t a thing anymore.”

“Does she?” Kate challenged.

“No,” she muttered, feeling like absolute dogshit. “God, I gotta fix this.”

“Luckily for you, Waverly Earp is so over the moon in love with you that she’ll take you back, even if you were a real horse’s ass.”

“ _Double_ lucky for you, I happen to know that Waverly’s 1:00 meeting got cancelled,” Rosita added, nodding as Nicole sprung to her feet and took off to make things right (hopefully).

She was walking so quickly and with so much purpose that she barely realized there was another body in her path until she collided with them. And of course it belonged to one Hannah Hastings.

“Woah, where’s the fire?” Hannah quipped, hands lingering still.

“Huh? Oh, nowhere.”

“Right,” Hannah smirked. “Look, I hope this isn’t too forward, but I was hoping that maybe you’d want to get dinner some time? I know it’s been such a long time, but we were something don’t you think so? Who’s to say we can’t try to revisit that?”

Nicole smiled softly, hoping that she had the words in her to let the blonde down gently.

“Han,” she sighed. “Look, we _were_ something, but I have to be completely honest with you. I’m sorry if I’ve led you on or gave you the wrong impression, but Waverly Earp,” she paused to gauge Hannah’s reaction, “is my girlfriend—of just over a year now—and I love her, I’m _in love_ with her and I really should’ve been upfront about that.”

“God Nicole,” Hannah gave a breathy laugh, “Jeez, I won’t lie and say I’m bummed you’re not single, but _I’m_ sorry for laying it on so thick. I hope I haven’t caused any problems.” The way Nicole looked to the floor and sighed gave Hannah all the information she needed. “Oh gosh, I have, huh? Oh—well now the incident in the hallway makes _so_ much more sense.”

“I’m sorry about that, she’s really such an angel. Who apparently has a wicked mean streak.”

“Yeah, I got that. Well, I’d better let you go make up with your girl then.”

“Thanks Han, for being so cool about this.”

Nicole sped off as quickly as her sore leg would take her, leaving the building to get to her car. She’d needed a few things that she could get on short notice that would hopefully at least get Waverly to listen to her. Maybe she’d have a little more success now that she knew the reason for this drama.

She did a silent victory dance when she saw that Waverly’s office was empty when she returned. If she was on schedule, she’d be in her meeting with the marketing department for another five minutes before she’d come back to her office because of the cancellation on her schedule. Five minutes was just enough time to get everything out and prepared, which was perfect because five minutes was all she got.

Punctuality was a blessing and a curse.

Waverly scoffed, rolled her eyes, and turned to leave when she saw that Nicole had occupied her desk with a food container, a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed unicorn.

“Waves, wait, please,” Nicole pleaded. “I was an idiot.” Waverly paused, but didn’t turn back around. “And I brought your favorite—sweet and sour soup.”

The brunette turned around slowly.

“With peanut butter?” She asked with her arms crossed. Nicole produced a spoon and a jar of Waverly’s favorite peanut butter from the bag, placing it on the surface of the desk. Waverly relented and took a seat across from Nicole. “I’m listening.”

“I was an idiot.”

“We’ve established that.”

“I’m sorry. For not realizing right away, for continuing to spend time with Hannah and practically rubbing your nose in it.”

“Nicole, you didn’t even introduce me as your girlfriend, which I wasn’t a fan of, but shrugged it off until—” Waverly cut herself off, “—do you know how hard it was to see your _still very into you_ ex all over you, and the flirting and the late nights, and the, the…she was there for the first time you got back on the ice. That was such a special moment, one that I really wished I could’ve been a part of, and it hurt Nicole—to see her get that moment with you, especially when she doesn’t fully understand how important it was.”

“Oh baby, I’m so so so so sorry times a million. For everything, please understand that none of this was ever my intention. I’m sorry I didn’t do it before, but I finally did tell Hannah about you, and she apologized for causing any sort of problem and she was actually really cool about it.”

“I have to apologize for flipping my shit on her,” Waverly frowned.

“She’ll forgive you,” she assured. “Though I must say, _Jealous Waverly_ _es muy caliente_.”

“I hate the way it makes me feel though.”

“And that’s why I love you,” Nicole took Waverly’s hand across the desk, and to her excitement, Waverly didn’t pull away. “And about the skating, I know you missed that moment and I’m sorry you’re upset about that, but as long as you want to be, you’ll be a part of as many special moments as possible. You are truly one of a kind Waverly Earp.”

Waverly stood up and crossed the desk to be closer to Nicole.

“I hate when we fight.”

“It _is_ the worst,” Nicole seconded. “But we’re gonna be okay, right?”

“Mhm,” Waverly nodded, “especially when the best sex is make up sex.”

“I know you’re a genius and what not, but that is the smartest thing you’ve ever said.”

“ _And_ ,” she continued, “I’ve got a free hour and a door that locks.”

“Well now you’re speaking my language,” Nicole said, watching her girlfriend get up to lock the door and close the curtains, returning to crash their lips together, the sweet and sour soup left forgotten on the desk.


	23. Let's Clear The Air

Waverly was sipping on the tea she’d managed to make in her hotel room, flipping through the league’s rule book, and looking over the last of the notes she’d made over film from the last game. She’d had the book pretty much memorized since August, but wanted to make sure that she had all of it nailed down before the big meeting. This was her first time running point on one of these league conduct meetings and, well, Waverly Earp was never not prepared.

She gently closed the book as she finished the last of her tea, hearing the knock on the door.

“Ready to go?” Dolls gave her the closest thing she’d consider a smile. (Contrary to popular—Wynonna’s—belief, Dolls was actually a pretty okay guy to be around once you got to know him, and definitely _not_ a robot alien).

“Yep!” She cheered, dampening down the normal amount of nerves she had in her stomach.

“Perfect, I’ve got the hotel conference room all set up.”

She followed Dolls down the hall, and into the elevator, folder of notes firmly tucked under her arm. They were in Moncton, three games into a nine-game road trip, so they would be conducting the meeting via video conference with the league office in Toronto. Dolls led her into the conference room with the big round table virtually empty, instead a laptop set up and connected to the television on the wall so that she could see everyone who would be on the call as well.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it,” Dolls said, turning to close the door behind him.

“Wait,” she cut in, “you’re not staying?”

“Nope.”

“Well why not? I’ve never done this before.”

“Waverly, I trust you,” he said, still not moving away from the door. “You are _more_ than capable of handling this. In fact, you might know the rulebook better than I do.” Waverly shrugged, but she guessed she couldn’t argue. She’d practically read it back to front every night for a month after she’d gotten the job. “You’ve got this, Earp. Don’t fuck it up.”

This time, he left the room, leaving Waverly to finish her preparations. It still managed to blow her mind that Dolls could go from semi-comforting to professional, demanding and even a little intimidating like the flip of a switch.

Looking at the clock on the wall, there were about five minutes before the meeting was set to start. She took a deep breath to settle any lingering nerves, pulling out her phone to silence it. The screen lit up with a photo of herself leaning over the bench to give Nicole a kiss (once practice had ended of course)—one of her favorite photos of the pair. The deep breath she took next was a heavy sigh laced with something that wasn’t quite uncertainty and teetered on the edge of guilt.

Things between her and Nicole were…complicated.

They weren’t actively fighting, per se, but things were definitely off. She guessed she shouldn’t have expected everything to be all sunshine and rainbows between them all the time, but she and Nicole shared such a special relationship built on communication and trust and Waverly could tell that she’d impinged on that by the way she acted when Hannah came around.

Nicole had apologized for her ignorance and for her actions, but Waverly had yet to do so. And she truly did owe Nicole an apology. She acted like a jealous girlfriend, yes, but she also acted like a child pouting and ignoring Nicole instead of talking things through like they usually did.

Timing didn’t really help the situation either, the team embarked on the current road trip not even a full week after Nicole commandeered her office and apologized to her so sincerely. It felt like they’d made up, but there was this disconnect between them—Nicole was still struggling with what was going on between them and their sudden lack of communication, and Waverly leaving for two weeks wasn’t going to help the situation. (Especially not when she was three time zones away and busier than she’d ever been).

She didn’t have any more time to dwell on her personal life, the video call beginning and the board from the Department of Player Safety appearing in front of her.

“Good morning, Miss Earp I presume?” The director, who she recognized as Jeannie Lucado, greeted her.

“Yes, good morning,” Waverly nodded.

“Perfect, let’s get down to business, shall we?” The board agreed, and Lucado pressed forward. “We are meeting to discuss the matter of the incident occurring on the evening of Tuesday, November 26 between Purgatory Blue Devils forward, Lecia Wilson, and Charlottetown Storm defender, Kaley Cooper. The board is meeting to determine the punishment for the penalty, in accordance with rule forty-five,” Waverly read along with the rule she’d highlighted as Lucado recited it for everyone on the call. “ _Elbowing shall mean the use of an extended elbow in a manner that may or may not cause injury. Furthermore, the referee, at their discretion, may assess a minor, major or game misconduct penalty depending on the severity of the incident_. Miss Earp, your suggestion on how to proceed?”

Part of her job as Assistant Director of Hockey Operations was to maintain compliance with league offices and player safety. In this case, it was attendance of meetings like these and providing the first suggestion for discipline when Devils players acted outside of the rules.

“Wilson was assessed a two-minute minor penalty for elbowing at 12:14 of the third period, but the incident resulted in the Storm defender leaving the game and entering concussion protocol. Since the primary source of contact was Miss Wilson’s elbow with Miss Cooper’s head, it is my suggestion that the penalty for this incident is a two-game suspension.”

Lucado nodded and the others on the board appeared to mull over the information.

“Why just the two games, Miss Earp?” An unpleasant-looking man with a walrus mustache asked from beside the director.

“My suggestion is for two-games on the basis that this is Miss Wilson’s first infraction with league conduct and there was no clear intent to injure Miss Cooper on the play,” she answered succinctly, confident in the case she made. She knew that Wilson not being punished for the incident would surely ruffle feathers around the league, but she also knew that she had to stand up for her player when they’d unfortunately injured another on accident.

Again the board looked to discuss amongst themselves, Lucado cutting discussions short when she appeared to have reached a verdict.

“We all seem to be in agreement that a two-game suspension is the best conclusion to this incident. We will put out the official statement this afternoon, and Miss Wilson’s suspension will be enforced starting immediately, lasting for the games today, Thursday, November 28 and Saturday, November 30. Thank you Miss Earp,” Lucado said, the rest of the board members leaving the screen, “I must say, it was refreshing to have you here.”

“Thank you,” she said and bid the director farewell, but understood the dig she had thrown towards Dolls. Those two had apparently had some deep-seated bad blood that she didn’t quite know the scope of.

She left the room, finding Dolls sitting in the hotel lobby, reading something on his phone he’d swear was a stock report or the latest notes from the team scouts. (For as much of a boring robot he presented himself as, Waverly often caught him reading the comics or looking at Kyler Murray’s stats from the last Cardinals game).

“Well that was fast,” he noted, locking his phone screen. “I’m surprised she didn’t swallow you whole through the computer screen.”

“What _is_ your problem with her? She seems kinda bitchy, I’ll give you that, but really she wasn’t the monster you always make her out to be.”

“You really wanna know?”

“It sure would help me understand your little vendetta.”

“Do you know where I used to work before Bunny asked me to be GM?”

“Vancouver, right? With the old team?”

“Mhm,” Dolls nodded, “ _with_ Jeannie Lucado in the main office. Both of us were Deputy Directors of Operations, and she was the coldest, snakiest bitch you’ll ever meet. There was _slightly less than friendly_ competition between us the whole time we worked together, and it was always a race to one-up the other. We were both in line to head up Player Safety, and she knew that I had the upper hand—right up until she sabotaged my interview and took the job out of my hands.”

_Okay, so the vendetta made sense now._

“Well, I’m sorry you lost out on that job, but look what you’ve got now,” she smiled, trying to point out the bright side.

“What, a job in a town smaller than my college campus, working for the world’s least pleasant woman?”

“Wow, I know Purgatory isn’t much, but it’s quaint, charming almost,” she teased. “Come on, you’re really gonna tell me you’d be better off in Toronto?”

“No, no, I guess you’re right. This job is much more pleasant now that the team is winning games, _and_ I guess it’s better than some stuffy job in Toronto anyway,” Dolls admitted.

“Wouldn’t want anyone thinking _you_ were stuffy.”

“ _Yeah, yeah, yeah,_ ” he said with a roll of his eyes.

\---

Waverly flashed her team pass to the security guard who allowed her access to the visiting team area, finally able to take a breath after spending the last forty-five minutes on the phone with Bunny Loblaw. Apparently, she was less than thrilled to have heard about her suggestion of a suspension for Wilson. After the first twenty minutes of trying to reason with the woman, she abandoned any sort of rationality and just listened to the woman curse her out while she updated the team statistics spreadsheet. (Sometimes it was best to just let crazy talk itself out, but when it became clear that Bunny had _a lot_ of crazy to talk out, she ended up faking bad cell reception and abruptly ended the call—for her sanity, of course).

She mentally went over the list of engagements and responsibilities she had on her schedule for the rest of the week: a media appearance before tonight’s game to talk about Wilson’s suspension, a video call with a man named Levi about a potential brand partnership between the Blue Devils and an up-and-coming line of hockey equipment tomorrow afternoon, cleaning up whatever mess Bunny will inevitably make with her recently created Twitter account, and just about a million other phone calls she was taking for Dolls all while having to get on a flight pretty much every other day on each stop of this road trip.

Slumping down in a nearby chair, she closed her eyes, thinking about how she missed home after being away for a few days. She’d found her mind wandering toward Wynonna and Nicole back home without her more and more as the days passed, and grew slightly irked by the way that she and Nicole kept _just_ missing each other when they tried to call. She chalked it up to their increasingly frustrating disconnect.

Having a few free minutes, she decided to try Nicole again—6 PM in Moncton meant it was 3 in Purgatory, so she figured this would be the best chance she had of actually reaching the redhead for the rest of the day. She heard the rings in her ear as she waited for the call to connect.

 _One…two,_ she counted in her head, _three…four…five…_

_“Hi, you’ve reached Nicole Haught, I can’t come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to ya lickety split!”_

Waverly heard her girlfriend’s all too familiar voicemail message and sighed exasperatedly as she hung up the device, opting to text the woman a quick: **Thinking about you** **❤ love and miss you xoxo.**

“Earp, let’s go, the vultures await” Dolls said, entering the room just as she got a new message.

**Nicole: Sorry, just missed you. For someone who’s so lazy, Wynonna’s really motivated to kill me**

She chuckled at the thought of her girlfriend and her sister working out together. Talk about a personality clash. She was a little disheartened at the lack of response to her heart emoji but didn’t dwell on it, instead following Dolls down the hallway to meet with reporters.

\---

Waverly woke up Saturday morning in Bathurst with a sinking feeling in her gut. She couldn’t explain it for the life of her, but she could just _feel_ like something was off today.

She did her morning meditation by the window as she watched the sun peak over the horizon and drank some warm green tea as she prepared herself mentally for the day, but still just could _not_ shake whatever this feeling was.

She found some semblance of distraction in her emails, one particularly catching her eye. Levi had gotten back to her following their conversation yesterday, saying that he thoroughly enjoyed her pitch and what she had to say, and that after speaking with his associates, that the _Revenant_ company would love to officially establish a partnership with the Devils. Securing this was clearly a big deal to Dolls, the sponsorship meant more exposure for the team which would open up more opportunities in the future, and she was ecstatic that she’d been able to get it done. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel like she was drowning in her new position, but with the success at the Player Safety meeting and now this, she felt like maybe she’d be alright here after all.

The morning pressed on, Waverly knocking out a chunk of her unread emails while having to pop a few Advil to get through the exorbitant amount of off-color tweets Bunny had produced in the span of two days (reminding her of a certain man with a bad spray tan who will remain nameless). She wasn’t sure how monitoring the team owner’s Twitter account fell under _hockey operations_ , though she suspected it was more likely that it fell under Dolls’ _“I don’t wanna deal with this”_ list.

By lunch time, she was so far down the Twitter rabbit hole that she truly didn’t know how the app was free for anyone to own.

Her sinking feeling diminished slightly, but hadn’t disappeared like she’d hoped it would. She ate lunch beside Dolls, who was seemingly constantly on a phone call, while she scrolled through her own phone, mainly looking at stats and league leaders. Shae was on pace for a career year, and Hannah was, unsurprisingly, impressing in her first year in the CEWHL. Despite the high performers, the Devils sat in the middle of the pack in terms of conference standings, and needed to pick up the pace now that they were getting into the thick of the season.

She stabbed at the lettuce in her salad, her mind numb from statistical reports and analytical terminology. She was offered relief in the form of a Snapchat from Wynonna—a photo of her sister in the weight room at the rink with Nicole, the both of them drenched in sweat with the caption **_GAINZ_** ** _💪💪_. **

Waverly sent back a quick snap in reply, happy to hear from the pair even if just in photo form. She groaned at the thought of another whole week away from them.

As game time rolled around, Dolls handed her the daily list of things to double and triple check before the puck dropped.

“One:,” she read aloud as she walked down to locker room level, “check in with equipment team.”

She heard commotion from the tunnel as she drew nearer to it, a few members of the equipment team squabbling over something.

“Bro, I’m telling you, it’s not here,” one of them, Carl, snapped.

“Well, then where is it then?” Malcolm returned fire.

 _Great,_ she thought as she finally reached them, _what could actually be missing now?_

“Where is _what_?” She asked, enjoying the way the group silenced themselves and looked like they’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Oh, uh, nothin’,” Carl said nervously, earning himself a slap on the back of the head from John, the big burly one with the Brent Burns beard.

“This one,” Red threw Carl under the bus in a heartbeat, “lost one of the stick bags.”

“I’m sorry,” she laughed in disbelief, “you lost _what?”_

“I didn’t lose it, per se…just sorta, uh…misplaced it.”

“Well, you better _un-_ misplace it,” Waverly growled at the man, knowing that half of the players’ sticks were in that bag.

“What if he left it back in Moncton?” The one they called Fish asked.

“You better hope for all of your sakes that’s not true.” 

She left the group, who had started to frantically scour the equipment in front of them, with a headache starting to form in her temples. This was _so_ not what she needed right now.

She turned back to the list, hoping she could actually get something done and accomplished before the game started— _if_ the game started, considering only half the team had sticks.

“Two: get Nedley’s rost—” she cut herself off when her phone started to ring. She prayed under her breath that Dolls hadn’t found out about the stick situation. Fortunately for her, it was an unknown number with a New Brunswick area code. “Hello, Waverly Earp speaking. Who is this?”

 _“Hi uh, this is Jameson, I was driving the Blue Devils bus and I think you guys might’ve left something here. Looks like a long black bag,”_ the driver said, and Waverly cheered internally for her luck.

“Yes, yes that’s ours.”

“ _Great, I can drive the bus back up to the front if you want to come get it.”_

“Perfect, thank you, Jameson,” she cheered as she sped back over to the entrance the bus had dropped the team off at earlier.

Waverly found the driver, a man younger than she expected who had a sort of post-One Direction Niall Horan look about him, fairly easily and met him at the storage section that was underneath the bus. Jameson pulled out the bag, dramatically grunting as he dragged it from the back of the storage area.

“Gee, that thing sure is heavy,” he said, standing in up next to Waverly. “Don’t tell me you got a body in there.”

“Do you seriously think we’d just leave a body lying around?” She teased. “That’s not exactly something you forget.”

“Alright, yeah, fair enough.”

“Well, thank you Jameson,” she smiled as she hoisted the bag onto her shoulder. It wasn’t as heavy as he made it out to be, and didn’t want to take up any more of his time. “Seriously, you saved this game. This is half the team’s sticks ya know.”

“Ahh, don’t mention it,” he waved it off, “but if you do decide to mention it, I don’t know, say to TSN tonight after you guys win, my name is Jameson McGuinness and I’m a downright hero.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she smiled brightly as the pair went their separate ways. She had some equipment boys to read the riot act to now.

Waverly walked purposefully down the hallway, knowing that it was drawing nearer to warmups and a good twelve players still didn’t have a stick to warm up with. When she arrived back at the spot where Carl and the gang had first told her about the missing bag, she found them not looking for said object, instead still loudly bickering with each other, now with the added noise of the angry players who were very much empty handed for warmups.

 _“Ahem,”_ she cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. Unfortunately, the crowd was far too belligerent to even register her presence. “Hey!” She tried, louder this time, unfortunately with little change in result. She tapped into her inner Wynonna, hoping that it would help. “ _EVERYBODY SHUT UP!”_

That seemed to do the trick, everyone freezing in their exact spot, only turning their heads to the sound of the yelling, like you see on TV. ( _Thank you, Wynonna)._

“I think I may have solved everyone’s problem,” she said, removing the bag from her shoulder and opening it to reveal what the players had been looking for. They all but swarmed her for their sticks and immediately strode toward the ice to get a warm up in.

Once the players were gone, she fixed the equipment crew with a hard stare. She swore she could see Fish audibly gulp as she approached.

“This better not happen again,” Waverly said sternly, “you all are not to leave the bus area until the checklist, which you’re _supposed_ to be completing _anyway_ , is done and double, no, _triple_ checked. Do you know how hard it is to play this game without a stick?” She asked rhetorically.

“No, but I bet it’s pretty hard,” Carl shrugged.

“Right, so you better make sure the team doesn’t have to do that. Understood?”

“Understood,” came a chorus of mumbles from the crew.

“Thank you,” she changed her demeanor to a smile and then walked away, finding several voicemails from Dolls on her phone that was on the brink of death. She had maybe a five-minute phone call left on the battery and cursed the fact she’d left her charger in the hotel room. She pressed the button to return Dolls’ call.

 _“Earp, what the hell?”_ he said, not bothering to greet her. _“Why didn’t you get me Nedley’s roster? It was like number two on the list.”_

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, turning to hopefully find the coach, “I’m down here now, I can get it for—”

_“—No, I got it already, what the hell happened?”_

“There was a situation with the equipment guys. Carl lost one of the stick bags—"

_“—he lost the stick bags?”_

“I said _one_ of them, but we found it and it’s all taken care of now.”

_“Remind me to have a serious talk with Carl. All of them actually.”_

“Already taken care of, Dolls.”

_“Well, thank you then, Waverly.”_

She ran through the rest of the list, finishing the last few tasks before making her way upstairs to sit in the box that the Bathurst rink crew designated for visiting management. Waverly was thoroughly grateful that Bunny hadn’t tagged along for this portion of the road trip, calling the Maritimes _boring_ and _unnecessary_ to visit; she dreaded the back half of the trip which included more _exciting_ places like Toronto and Montreal, where Bunny would be obnoxiously in attendance.

Dolls nodded as she took her seat next to him following the singing of _O Canada_ , barely looking away from the game. Nedley had gone with the bold choice of starting Powers and Finning’s line with the Hastings-Thomas pair. She knew it probably went up Shae’s ass sideways not to be starting, but Waverly had learned not to question Nedley’s decision-making process. After all, he hadn’t led the team astray yet.

She enjoyed watching the team play, she loved the game, but she really just found herself wishing for Nicole to be back out there again. It would give her some sense of normalcy, especially with how much had changed.

Her life resembled little of what it did just over a year ago before Nicole or the team came around. She went from a small-town skating rink worker with a big, burly, no-brained boyfriend to a front office employee of a fairly successful professional team with a gorgeous, star athlete girlfriend. Not that any of it was a bad thing—she’d learned fairly quickly with Nicole that change could be much better and much less scary than she’d often made it out to be. She was just hoping, for Nicole’s sake, that change didn’t include the redhead never playing again (though she supposed they’d find a way to get through that scenario together should they come to it).

The referee’s whistle blew with the horn to signify the end of the first period, Dolls standing to take a phone call, one from Bunny Loblaw based on the Caller ID.

“Hello?” he answered, Waverly listening in curiously. “Yes, I’m aware of the score…” (1-0 Power after a breakdown defensively earned the home team a penalty shot). “No, Bunny, I don’t think we should protest these refs,” Dolls said, removing the phone from his ear and turning to Waverly, mouthing _What the fuck_ to her. “You know, I think they were well within their rights to call that…no Bunny, Hastings tripped the girl on a breakaway—that’s a penalty shot…yes, I’m sure that’s the rule…You know, I’m not sure why they haven’t scored yet, but you also know _I_ can’t control that…look, the period’s going to start back up soon, I gotta go,” Dolls said, abruptly hanging up the phone before Bunny could add anything else.

“Wow,” Waverly said when Dolls returned to his seat. “I knew she was crazy, but _wow_.”

“I seriously don’t know how someone so delusional can be allowed to have so much money.”

“It’s the world’s biggest crime.”

“Speaking of delusional, looks like you’re going to have your hands full with her Twitter account tonight. She was using some _less than appropriate_ names for the refs down there.”

“Lucky me,” she added sarcastically, looking down to see the Twitter notification on her home screen (and her battery on 1%).

**New Tweet from Bunny Loblaw:**

**“Loser refs tonight in Bathurst, makes you wonder if they really should leave women in charge after all.”**

“God, why even own a women’s hockey team if she hates strong women so much? Makes you wonder if she even realizes that _she’s_ a woman in charge,” she scoffed, showing Dolls next to her.

“Maybe it’s some sort of self-aware social commentary.”

“You and I both know she’s not that smart.”

\---

Exhausted from the day in Bathurst, Waverly barely had the energy to plug her phone into the charger before collapsing into bed immediately after her return to the hotel room. They’d have most of tomorrow off before an afternoon flight to Halifax for Monday night’s game against the Warriors.

She was glad in a way that her phone died at the start of the second period, not wanting to see the onslaught of progressively incoherent tweets from the team owner, what with the Devils completely falling apart, letting up 5 goals in the period and losing the game by a 7-0 margin. She’d deal with that in the morning.

Sleep coming to her almost instantly, she welcomed it, hoping that tomorrow would be less stressful, Sundays being typically free from business calls and the like. 

Unfortunately, the hope was dashed much earlier than she would’ve liked, the blaring of her ringtone jarring her awake at…1:27 AM, looking blearily at the alarm clock next to the bed. She grumbled as she reached for the device, not bothering to check who was calling at such an absurd time.

“What do you want?” She muttered, still lying on her chest, hoping to be able to go back to sleep as soon as possible.

“ _DUDE!”_ Wynonna’s voice bounced off the inside of her skull much louder than usual (though that may have had more to do with the sleep she was currently being deprived of).

“God, Wynonna, why are you disturbing my sleep? Do you have any idea what time it is here?”

“ _Babygirl, shut up,”_ her sister cut in, _“I’ve been trying to call you for the past three hours, why the fuck haven’t you been answering?”_

“My phone’s been dead,” she answered, annoyed, “and I’ve been _sleeping_. What do you want, Wynonna?”

_“Nicole’s in the hospital.”_

Waverly bolted upright at Wynonna’s words. Nothing else mattered in that moment than making sure Nicole was okay.

“I’ll be right there,” she responded hastily into the phone and hung up before she could hear her sister add anything else.

Frantically, threw on a hoodie and a pair of sneakers, not bothering to see if her clothes matched in the darkness of the hotel room. She gathered a few belongings haphazardly into a backpack and sprinted out of the room and down the hall, pounding on a door until the inhabitant reached it.

A half-asleep Xavier Dolls pulled open the door, squinting at the bright light coming in from the hallway. (Under different circumstances, Waverly probably would’ve chuckled at the fact that she’d never considered that part of Dolls’ humanity meant that he slept in boxers and a t-shirt and not one of the three suits she’d always seen him wear).

“Earp?” He questioned groggily, voice still husky from sleep.

“I need to go see Nicole,” she blurted, not interested in wasting time, “ _now.”_

“Waverly, look, I totally support yours and Nicole’s relationship, but I’m not here to facilitate your booty calls at one thirty in the morning,” he grumbled as he started to close the door to go back to bed. She stuck her hand out to stop him, holding the door open.

“No. I need to go back to Purgatory,” she said seriously, “Nicole’s in the hospital.”

Dolls didn’t look at her, but closed the door behind him instead. She huffed, annoyed at his rudeness until he reopened the door, now having thrown on a CEWHL hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, inviting her into the room.

“In the hospital?” He asked, opening his laptop. She nodded. “Do you know why?”

“No,” she admitted. “I didn’t let Wynonna get that far, but she sounded like it was important, and she…” Waverly trailed off, looking at her phone and seeing twenty-seven (27) missed calls from her sister and a few from Gus, as well as several unread text messages of varying franticness, all in all caps from Wynonna. “Whatever it is, it’s important,” she concluded, and Dolls nodded.

“Okay, well this is convenient,” Dolls noted, turning his screen toward her, “there’s a flight that leaves for Calgary in an hour. If you leave now, you can catch it, and I can have a car ready to take you back to Purgatory immediately after you land.”

“Oh my god, please,” she said, watching Dolls complete the purchase and book the flight, “how much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed, “make sure your girl is okay.”

“Thank you,” she said after catching the look that told her not to protest what he was saying, “really, I mean it.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Dolls drove her to the nearby airport and even promised to make sure all of the rest of her things got back to her once the road trip was over, all of which she was grateful for. She thanked him once more as she ran through the doors to the airline counter, presenting the email confirmation of her ticket purchase. The lady (who looked less than thrilled to be there) printed her a boarding pass and informed her the flight would be leaving from gate three. The already small airport was practically empty at such an early hour, leading Waverly to surmise that this was the only flight right now. As a result, she sped through security and didn’t have to worry about checking any luggage in. She only waited a max fifteen minutes at the gate before they started boarding the flight, and shortly thereafter, the less than full airplane took off for Calgary.

Waverly spent the entirety of the seven-hour flight worrying about what state she’d find Nicole in when she arrived at the hospital. Did she fall and hurt her leg again? Or her head? Did she have some kind of delayed brain bleed or seizure?

_God, why didn’t she let Wynonna explain?_

Seven hours of worst-case scenarios later, she disembarked the plane, sped past the unnecessary baggage claim, and found the driver Dolls said he’d have waiting for her. It was another 35 minutes from Calgary to the Purgatory town line, and another 12 to the hospital once she’d given the driver the address. Hopping out of the car, she left her driver, Kurt, a nice tip and flew through the doors of the emergency room, crashing into one of the overnight nurses who was leaving the hospital following the end of her shift.

It was just about 7:20 when she found Wynonna, jogging over to the brunette to embrace her—she really just needed hug, and to know that everything was going to be okay.

“Wynonna what’s going on? Where’s Nicole? Is she okay?”

“Babygirl, relax, take a breath,” Wynonna instructed. “Good, now, _as I was going to explain on the phone,_ we had to call an ambulance for Haught because she passed out in the living room, right as she was heading upstairs.”

“Wynonna, she didn’t fall down the stairs, did she?” She asked, fear creeping in on her, remembering the sinking feeling in her gut from yesterday morning.

“No, but one second she was on her feet, not looking too hot, and the next,” Wynonna said, smacking her hands together in demonstration of Nicole’s fall.

“Do they know why?”

“They say it was a combination of fatigue, dehydration and stress,” her sister explained. “Her body was just so overwhelmed that it took matters into its own hands. I should’ve known, she really didn’t look great—she was pale, clammy-looking, all shaky—especially when she got back home later in the evening. I knew she hadn’t been sleeping great, but I didn’t know she was pulling double workouts, with me and then by herself on the side.”

Waverly felt more than a little guilty, knowing she’d been contributing to Nicole’s lack of sleep and the added stress due to their relationship disconnect. And, she was now realizing that the redhead was exactly the type of stubborn that would run herself into the ground to get back to where she was as quickly as possible.

“Is she okay now?”

“She’s resting,” Wynonna said as she ran her hand through her hair, “they’ve got her on an IV to help with her dehydration, they’ve had her asleep since about 8:30 last night, so she should be coming around soon, hopefully.”

“Can we go to her room?”

Her sister nodded and led her down the hallways. Waverly was glad that even though she was still in the hospital, at least Nicole was in a normal patient room and not the ICU like she’d been months ago.

Walking into the room, she saw Nicole’s bright red hair in heavy contrast with both the baby blue gown she was wearing and the paleness of her skin. Waverly pulled up a seat and grabbed her girlfriend’s hand, seeing what Wynonna meant when she said clammy. Holding the hand, she noticed the muscle definition Nicole had added as a result of her workouts with Wynonna, but also noticed in her face and cheeks that the redhead had visibly lost weight since she’d been gone. She reached up to tuck the loose hair behind Nicole’s right ear, taking note of the deep circles beneath the normally bright, expressive brown eyes. The guilt mounted in her stomach, knowing that Nicole’s state was partly her fault.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but she looks a lot better than she did last night,” Wynonna said.

“I’m an idiot,” Waverly admitted.

“Yeah, you are, and you two definitely need to talk through this drama,” her sister agreed, “but she’s stubborn as hell, and I’ve been here—I should’ve kept a better eye on her while you were gone.”

“Don’t blame yourself, you’re not responsible for her.”

“What I’m saying is that there just needs to be better communication between all of us and set some better expectations so we don’t end up in here every six months because of this one _._ ”

Waverly nodded, stroking the back of Nicole’s hand with her thumb, the woman in bed responding to the contact, eyes fluttering open at the sound of the voices in the room. Nicole groaned, licking her lips as she came to, and Waverly jumped into action, grabbing the cup of water from the bedside table and bringing the straw to Nicole’s lips.

The redhead took a few small sips before weakly thanking Waverly with a tired smile.

“What’re you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Waverly repeated Nicole’s question. “ _Someone_ got themselves sent to the hospital again. Do you think I’d let you here alone? Or worse—with Wynonna?”

Wynonna gasped melodramatically and offended.

“But what about the road trip?”

“Nicole, do you think I care more about the road trip than I care about you?”

“No,” Nicole blushed, sending her eyes downward. “But your job?”

“Dolls knows. He actually set the flight up early this morning,” she assured. “Nicole, you’re in the hospital, obviously that comes first.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you too, baby,” Waverly smiled before it turned slightly into a frown, “which is why we need to talk.”

“Oh god, am I in trouble?”

“No,” Waverly chuckled, “but I think we need to clear the air. It’s no secret things have been off between us—since Hannah came around. I know you apologized, but I still owe you one…for acting like a child.” Nicole cocked her head, but didn’t speak. “I ignored you and pouted instead of telling you how I felt. That’s not us. We’re not that couple; we talk things through when there’s a problem, and I screwed with that. I know it’s been stressing you out and that’s why you haven’t been sleeping—”

“—Waves, I—”

“—From now on, I promise to communicate and tell you when something’s bothering me, but I need you to promise that too. You can’t be running yourself into the ground, Nicole, it’s not healthy and you won’t get back any faster if you end up in the hospital every couple of weeks.”

“I just thought the sooner I could get back on the ice, the sooner everything could go back to normal.” Nicole mumbled sadly, fumbling with the frayed edge of the blanket instead of making eye contact with Waverly.

“I know baby,” Waverly placed a hand under the redhead’s chin, “but you need to take care of yourself too, okay? And I’ll be here to help you. I’m sorry I added to your stress, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Nicole said, both of them yawning in sync. Waverly supposed they were both pretty exhausted. “Now, you’re tired, I’m tired—what do you say you climb in her next to me and we take a nap while Wynonna works on getting us out of this place?”


	24. The One With The Plan

“I still do not quite understand what all the hussy fuss is,” Doc says as he swirls his whiskey around his glass, holding his cards close to his vest.

They were gathered in the film room, Doc nursing his glass of whiskey with Wynonna’s legs kicked up on his lap, the pair entrenched in a poker match with Rosita and Kate, Jeremy there for moral support.

“Hussy fuss? Really?” Wynonna snickered at him. “I know you’re older than me, but _geez_ can we not use words that haven’t been used since the nineteenth century?”

Doc muttered under his mustache and knocked back the rest of his drink.

“Don’t listen to her Henry, I like it,” Rosita said, taking a peek at her own cards and tossing in her bet.

“The _hussy fuss_ is that Nicole and Waverly a couple of big dumb morons,” Kate remarked once she’d matched Rosita’s offer, “no offense.”

“Oh, none taken,” Wynonna shrugged, “for someone who has the IQ of a certified genius, Waverly’s an idiot.”

Doc leaned over Wynonna’s legs to reach the table, placing the fourth card on the board—ten of diamonds. He grunted again, “ _Check,”_ he said, the next turn going to Rosita. “What does their stupidity have to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with it,” Wynonna told him, “both of them are stupid and stubborn and oblivious as hell which is what got them here. Haught started it when _Legally Blonde_ came up in here, but Waverly was a child—it was pretty much inevitable.”

“Yeah, Wynonna’s right— _check—_ though I will say that I thought if anyone would make it, it would’ve been those two,” Rosita added.

“Hold up, let’s not act like those two lovebirds are totally over, okay?” Kate arched an eyebrow at her cards, “As far as I’m concerned, Wayhaught is still very much endgame.”

“Way _-haught?”_ Doc asked, clearly befuddled. “What on earth is a Way-haught?”

“Does this whole out-of-touch thing ever get inconvenient for you?” Wynonna snorted.

“I’ll have you know that I am very much _in touch_ ,” the doctor said matter-of-factly, “just last week I purchased the album _1989_ on compact disk.”

“Yeah, not really helping your case there,” she rolled her eyes, “wait— _1989_? Like Taylor Swift _1989_?”

“Of course.”

“Hmm. And that’s something you, John Henry Holliday, enjoy?”

“Well, Miss Swift does know her way around funky pop beat—”

“—and her bridges could be tax write offs for infrastructure,” Jeremy added from beside Wynonna, not playing, but just enjoying their company.

“Yes,” Doc nodded enthusiastically. Wynonna couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Wait to you hear her other albums Doc, I think you’re gonna _love Reputation._ ”

“You know, you’d think that, but I secretly think he’s more of a _folklore_ kinda guy,” Kate chimed in.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Rosita waved her hand, “how is it that I’ve known you for over half a decade and never knew about your Taylor Swift obsession?”

Doc just shrugged, smirking as the conversation continued to devolve into irrelevance.

“Alright, _enough_ ,” Wynonna interrupted, quieting the room, “where were we?”

“Doc bought a Taylor Swift CD,” Jeremy answered.

“Not that you _dingus_ ,” she slapped the boy on the arm. “Whose turn is it?”

“Mine,” Kate answered.

“Alright, you bettin’?”

Kate narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the cards in her hand and on the board.

“Check.”

“You guys are lame,” Wynonna said, her turn now rolling around, though she herself decided not to place a bet. Doc leaned forward again, placing the fifth and final card down—three of spades. Wynonna looked at her cards, deciding her next move; Doc himself started the round, placing his own bet.

“Oh! Back to where we were,” Jeremy said, “Doc didn’t know what Wayhaught meant. It’s a ship name,” Doc looked at him like the boy had four heads and about eighteen pairs of eyes. “You know, like when people are in a relationship, you mash up their names—Way, Waverly; Haught, Nicole’s last name?”

“I will not even begin to pretend I understand what you are saying,” the doctor still appeared lost.

“ _Regardless_ ,” Wynonna pressed on, “I know those idiots aren’t officially broken up, but this _is_ weird—and both their faults.”

“D’you know who initiated it?” Rosita asked, throwing in her cards.

“Haught did,” Wynonna answered, “after she got out of the hospital, she sat down with Waverly, they had a serious conversation, they called a pause on their relationship and then she moved her stuff out the homestead the next morning.”

She’d been pissed at first, wanted to murder Nicole Haught for up and quitting on her sister when things got tough, but she’d remembered that her sister was just as much at fault (and had mutually agreed for them to part ways). And truly, Wynonna understood better than most that urge to get up and run away from an undesirable situation, so the motive for murder quelled a bit.

“Wow, I figured Red was so pussy whipped that she’d let herself drown in that relationship if it meant she got to stay with Waverly.”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” Kate interjected while tossing in her match to Doc’s wager. “Don’t act like Nicole was some kind of abused puppy here, or that Waverly’s some sort of abusive monster—miscommunication and bad timing is a heartless two-headed bitch.”

“Kate’s right, I think the break will be good for them. Let them breathe,” Wynonna seconded, “Nicole’s recovery was a heavy burden on both of them. Love is strong but what they went through pushed it to the brink— _Blondie_ was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“So do we have bad blood with Miss Hastings, then?” Doc asked, smirking and looking around the room to see if anyone had picked up on his reference. Wynonna shot him an unimpressed look; Jeremy gave him two thumbs up for his efforts.

“No, she didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Wynonna assured, “just unfortunate circumstances.”

Doc nodded his understanding.

Wynonna surveyed the table, the cards there—two of spades, six of hearts, five of spades, ten of diamonds, three of spades—and then looked at the pair in her hands. (She not so subtly tried to sneak a glance at Doc’s hand, leaning back in her seat causing the man to shove the cards into his vest pocket).

“Yeah, I guess they need space or whatever,” Rosita said, “but on the other hand, when has a _break_ ever worked out? I mean look at Ross and Rachel—” The Latina caught the puzzled look on Doc’s face, “—I know you never got around to watching _Friends_ , but trust me, it made things a lot more complicated.” 

“Okay, but did they or did they not wind up together in the end?” Kate challenged.

“Yeah, but your logic implies that one of them will wind up in some sort of weird _Rachel-Joey_ relationship.”

“Well now I have fully fallen off this here train of thought,” Doc turned to Wynonna for clarification.

“It’d be like Nicole and Jeremy dating,” she answered bluntly, to which Doc made a disgusted face.

“Okay, one: that would never happen, Nicky and I are like the two _gayest_ people I know,” Jeremy said, “and two: I like to think of myself as more of a Phoebe.”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Wynonna sneered, “it doesn’t matter because that won’t happen anyway. They’ll be fine. They’ll mope and they’ll whine and then they’ll realize that they’re both _morons_ and then they’ll get back together. I give it two weeks, tops. Those two are all in on each other,” she said, pushing all her chips to the center of the table, “just like I am on this bet.”

Rosita and Kate booed, the latter of the two tossing her cards in.

“Come on old man, in or out?” She taunted, waving her cards in the air.

He removed his own from his vest, looked at them once more and then up at Wynonna.

“Oh, darlin’ I am a nightmare dressed like a daydream,” he said with a vainglorious smirk and a tip of his brim.

“Barf.”

“When do you know me to fold?” He matched the bet and stared her down. She wasn’t quite sure what his cards could be, but he was abundantly confident. “Ladies first,” he smirked, nodding for her to show her hand.

“Nuh-uh,” she waved a finger, “together. On three.” Doc agreed. “ _One..two…three—”_

They laid their cards out simultaneously, her eyes lighting up when she saw what Doc had been holding.

“HEYO!” She said, taking in the whole pot. Her four and ace of spades—creating a straight flush—beat out Doc’s two pair (five and ten).

The doctor grumbled as he pushed her legs off of him to refill his glass.

\---

Life on a Wayhaught break was weird, like she’d predicted, but not so far outside the realm of normal possibility that it seemed implausible. (Wynonna thought of it like what could’ve been if the two hadn’t met in the first place).

Nicole showed up to all her workouts—both with the training staff and with Wynonna—and appeared to be taking care of herself, though she spent most of her free time at her apartment. She didn’t mope or whine or anything like that, but didn’t spend any extra time hanging around the arena. Nicole was very much playing the part of driven, professional athlete, recovering from an injury.

Waverly, on the other hand, threw herself into her job. Most nights, Wynonna found herself closing her sister’s laptop and forcing her to go up to bed. The first few nights, Wynonna heard Waverly tossing, turning and unable to get comfortable to fall asleep, but slowly her sister adjusted to not having Nicole next to her. It irked Wynonna just how well her sister could play the stuffy professional role. (She _made fun_ of Dolls, she didn’t need Waverly turning into him).

When two weeks (tops) turned into three weeks, Wynonna figured she should say something, maybe get them moving in the right direction. When three weeks turned into spending Christmas, New Year’s and now approaching Nicole’s birthday still on this asinine break, Wynonna _knew_ those two crazy kids would never get back together without a kick in the ass.

Luckily, she was the exact right type of meddling menace they needed.

She started with Nicole, seeing as the redhead was actually in town—the Devils, including Waverly, on their way back Winnipeg, returning later that evening.

“Look at you go, slacker,” Wynonna teased as she tossed a towel at Nicole to wipe away the sweat from their workout. “We might be able to make a hockey player out of you yet.”

“I’ve got a few trophies to my name that would say that I already _am_ a hockey player,” she fired back.

“Mhm, your mouth is saying that, but your performance last time you were on skates says _Chrissy Nedley circa second grade_ —or animated baby deer, circa 1942.”

“That’s below the belt,” Nicole pouted, but didn’t seem too offended, “even for you.”

“Cry about it,” the brunette shrugged, taking a swig of her water.

“Maybe I will.”

Wynonna stuck her tongue out at the redhead, watching her gather her things. Nicole looked ready to head straight home like she did after each of their sessions without so much as allowing Wynonna to even _think_ about requesting a hangout. _Not today_ , Wynonna thought to herself.

“Nicole Haught.”

“Wynonna Earp.”

“Nicole…Haught,” Wynonna repeated, slower this time.

“Wynonna…Earp,” Nicole followed suit, clearly annoyed by the confusing back and forth. “Any particular reason we’re doing this?”

“No, not really,” Wynonna shrugged again, “just making sure I remember what your name sounds like, you know, since we never hang out anymore.”

She watched a bit of guilt flash across Nicole’s eyes.

“You _never_ call me ‘Nicole Haught’—it’s always some ridiculous nickname or a bad pun based on my name,” the redhead pointed out. “Besides, we hang out.”

“ _This_ ,” she gestured to the weight room they were in, “is not hanging out. Come on, hang out with me tonight— _Mid-Ice Crisis_ is playing _No Regretzkys_ in like twenty minutes.”

“Wynonna, I don’t know…” Nicole continued to evade eye contact, packing her things away. Wynonna didn’t respond, only crossing her arms and fixing Nicole with a long stare until the redhead could _feel_ the eyes on her. She sighed heavily. “It’s not a negotiation, is it?”

“Nope,” Wynonna popped the ‘p’ and shook her head smugly.

She led the redhead out to the main sitting area (but first made a quick pitstop to the lobby to snag themselves a few snacks). Champ and Robin were tonight’s beer league refs which would’ve been entertainment in its own right considering Robin’s minimal understanding of the game. The matchup between the two teams tonight would likely be the one that most closely resembled actual hockey, but Wynonna wasn’t really planning on watching much of the game anyway. Nicole, on the other hand, allowed herself to be fully enthralled by the burly, uncoordinated men on the ice.

Wynonna tossed a peanut M&M at her best friend, watching it thump off of the redhead’s temple. Nicole breathed through her nose, but didn’t turn her attention. Wynonna, naturally, did it again, not satisfied with being ignored. The second one earned her a scowl from Nicole.

“So,” Wynonna asked with cheer, “whatcha been up to?”

“You don’t do small talk, Earp.”

“How would you know? A lot can change in a month,” she shrugged. Wynonna could see Nicole doing the math in her head, trying to figure out if it had _really_ been that long since she and Waverly went into a proverbial intermission in their relationship.

“I went up to Edmonton a couple weeks ago,” Nicole answered after a moment.

“Just a quick little road trip?” Wynonna teased. “Or is there another ex we need to worry about?” Nicole sent her a hard glare; Wynonna knew she had pushed too far and gave a quick apology.

“If you _must_ know,” Nicole huffed, though Wynonna had the sneaking suspicion she was glad to be talking about something outside of their normal workout conversations, “I went to see my parents.”

“ _Woah._ Seriously?” She asked; she knew how big of a deal that was to the redhead—her family something of a sore spot for her. Nicole nodded. “And how’d that go?”

“I figured with the whole _almost dying_ thing that I’d maybe try to mend—or build in this case—the relationship. Ya know, give ‘em a chance and what not.”

“ _And?”_ Wynonna was both physically and metaphorically on the edge of her seat.

“They said that they didn’t even know I’d gotten injured,” she said sadly. “Even the old man who spends every day in the park with his wife knew about it. But them? My _birthgivers_? Nothing. Zero. Zip. Nada.”

“Damn dude,” Wynonna had nothing of substance to add. She didn’t know what to say to that, but knew the pause in conversation warranted some sort of response from her end.

“Oh, you know what I _did_ find out?”

“What?”

“They left on an eight-month trip to Thailand _three days_ after it happened. What kind of parents do that, with their child in the hospital?”

“Well,” Wynonna approached her sadly, seeing the resignation in Nicole’s eyes, “like you said, they didn’t know.”

“I think their story’s bullshit—there’s _no way_ they didn’t know. I just think they didn’t wanna face me and tell me they cared more about going to Thailand than about me.” Wynonna had the same suspicion, but chose not to second. She knew Nicole had given up on her parents a long time ago, but could still see that her best friend was hurt by her negligent so-called family. “God, I know I told them to stay away, but I could’ve been paralyzed—or _died_ —that’s something you want your parents there for.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Wynonna said bluntly. “You got all the family you need right here.”

Nicole bit back a smile, turning her head to watch the _No Regretzkys_ goalie completely whiff on a glove save. Wynonna saw this to be as good an opportunity as she was gonna get to make her move, producing a card in a blue envelope from her jacket.

She shoved the card in front of Nicole, waving it around, telling the redhead to open. Nicole took the envelope, but narrowed her eyebrows at it suspiciously.

“Since I won’t see you for your birthday this weekend,” Wynonna shrugged. She could tell Nicole was a bit hurt by the words, but proceeded to open the card anyway.

It was a blank piece of cardstock, not adorned with any sort of birthday message, and she snickered watching Nicole turn it over curiously like she’d been duped. She opened the card, finding where Wynonna had scrawled across the entirety of the sheet:

**_“You’re a moron. My sister’s a moron. You two should go back to being morons together.  
_** **_(P.S. Happy Birthday or whatever)”_ **

“Are you…hitting on me… _for_ your sister?” Nicole asked, re-reading the note.

“No.”

“Wynonna, I-” Nicole sighed, her resignation creeping back in. “I want to, I really do, but only if Waverly does. I feel like I’ve made the relationship all about me, since… _you know_ …and—”

“—Haught, why’d you call the pause on your relationship?”

“Because we were reaching a point that could’ve easily turned the whole thing toxic.”

“That’s valid, I guess, but would you say that lack of communication was one of the biggest issues between the two of you?”

“Yeah,” Nicole dragged out her answer, suspicious of where Wynonna was going with this.

“How the _fuck_ are you going to fix your _lack_ of communication by literally _never_ seeing or speaking to each other?”

Nicole blinked at her, unable to answer, mind trying to make sense of what the brunette was saying to her.

“Fuck,” she breathed after a moment. Wynonna nodded, tapping on the note she’d written in the card. “ _Fuck_.”

\---

Wynonna entered the homestead with a smug little grin after speaking with Nicole, but also knew that her work was only _half_ over.

She strolled into the kitchen to find her sister hunched over her laptop on the floor, surrounded by what she could only describe as a comedically large stack of papers and charts and folders, the kitchen table going relatively unused. She guessed the Devils got in a lot earlier than she expected, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Waverly hadn’t hopped off the plane and immediately buried herself in work anyway.

“Aren’t you obsessed with saving the planet?” she quipped. “Because this seems like a lot of paper—couldn’t this be given to you in like an email, maybe a nice PowerPoint?” Waverly didn’t even register her presence, so she tried again, stepping closer to the smaller brunette. “You know, typically, work is done _on_ the table.”

“Papers kept falling off the table,” Waverly grunted, still clicking away on her computer, inputting some sort of statistical mumbo jumbo into a spreadsheet.

“Okay, so the kitchen floor—the dirty, grimy kitchen floor—was the next best option?” Wynonna challenged.

“Hey! I mop the floor almost every Saturday,” Waverly protested.

“Right, but it’s still a _floor_ , very famously _not_ the same thing as a desk or table.”

“Maybe we should look into getting a bigger table.”

And just like that, Wynonna found her in.

“Why?” She probed, “Why would we need a bigger table for just the two of us?” She pat herself on the back when she saw Waverly stop typing (even if she didn’t look away from the screen). “I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to getting a bigger table if, and this is completely hypothetical of course, you were to, ya know, get back together with a certain redheaded hockey superstar.”

“We’re not broken up,” Waverly said, finally taking her eyes off of her laptop. “We’re just on a break.”

“Mhm, _sure_ …” she paused for effect, “ _Ross._ ”

“It is _so_ not the same thing.”

“I don’t know,” she sing-songed; there was nothing she loved more than being an instigator, “Nicole’s got that thing with Hannah. If you go run off with, I don’t know, Rosita or something, we’ll have the homoerotic _Friends_ reboot that literally no one asked for.”

 _“Wynonna,”_ her sister growled, warning her. “Don’t. Don’t joke. Our life is not a mid-90s sitcom.”

“Yeah, okay, if that’s true then why don’t you call Haught up and get back together right here and now?”

“Because...” her sister released a breath through her nose, “it’s really—it’s just not that simple.”

“Sure it is. I know for a fact that _Flamin’ Haught Cheetos_ would take you back in a heartbeat.”

“That’s precisely why I _can’t_ Wynonna.”

“I’m sorry,” Wynonna coughed, astonished, “is it opposite day and no one told me?”

“No.”

“Then why the hell can’t you go ask to get back together with a girl who so obviously is gonna say yes?”

“Because…Wynonna, she made herself so sick over this relationship that she _literally_ put herself back in the hospital,” Waverly reasoned. “She cares so much about the people she loves that she doesn’t look after herself, I can’t ask her to do that over me again.”

Wynonna rolled her eyes at just how stupid the two of them could possibly be.

“While that _is_ noble of you, I have to say that now I _know_ I’ve woken up in some weird alternate universe.”

“What could you possibly be talking about?”

“I’m talking about how I’m currently the _smart_ one, and you’re the village idiot.”

“No one thinks you’re the village idiot—not when Champ Hardy still lives here.”

“Shut up and let me tell you about how much of an idiot you are.” Waverly frowned as Wynonna proceeded. “You obviously love Nicole. And she _very obviously_ loves you—like a gross amount.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I know you do, and I also know that you have to sleep with _five_ blankets, plus your bonus blanket, because your real _‘bonus blanket’,_ ” she emphasized with air quotes, “has been missing for a month.” Waverly’s sigh sounded a lot like an acknowledgement of Wynonna’s correctness. “Babygirl, I’m not gonna tell you what to do here—”

“—Sure sounds like it.”

“ _I’m not gonna tell you what to do here._ Just don’t go wasting the only relationship you’ve ever been in that’s been worth a damn.”

If she’d had a microphone in her hand, she would’ve dropped it, but she settled for letting the weight of her words hang in the air as she backed out of the kitchen to head to her own room.

Hours later, she found herself laying on the bed, playing one of those mindless Candy Crush knockoffs when she heard Waverly shuffle into the room.

“’Nonna?”

“Mhm?”

“You’re right.”

“I’m aware.”

Waverly paused a moment.

“I have an idea, but I need your help.”

Wynonna smirked to herself as she locked her phone, knowing she’d been successful for now the _second_ time today.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

\---

The Blue Devils had a rare Sunday practice on the morning of January 5th. It was perfect, actually, though she figured Waverly had known their schedule inside and out and planned it that way.

She’d stayed up Friday night with Waverly, crafting and going over the steps; by Saturday afternoon there was a color-coded plan held up on their refrigerator by the little Blue Devil magnet Wynonna had stolen from the team store.

** PHASE ONE:  **

Wynonna rang Nicole first thing on Sunday morning, the redhead groaning into the receiver as she answered.

_“Wynonna, I could kill you right now.”_

“Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

“ _What do you want?”_

“Robin’s out sick,” she said. “Come in and cover for him.”

Truth be told, she’d called Robin and told him not to bother coming in this morning—for the sake of Waverly’s plan.

_“Not happening Earp.”_

“Why not?” She badgered.

_“It’s Sunday morning, for starters.”_

“And you’d be here anyway if you could practice. Try a better excuse.”

There was a long groan on the other end of the line and the sound of shuffling that sounded like victory to Wynonna.

_“Do you even really need me there?”_

“Maybe I want the company.”

_“It’s my birthday, Wynonna.”_

“I’ll bake you a cake,” she was getting bored of the back and forth now, “just get your stupid ass up and help me out around here.”

_“I’ll see you in twenty.”_

“I’ll be waiting by the door, counting the seconds.”

_“I hate you.”_

“Love you too.”

She heard something along the lines of _yeah, yeah, yeah_ and the sound of Nicole’s bed creaking as she fully got herself out of bed. Wynonna fist-pumped just a smidge as she mentally checked off one of her two tasks in the plan. _(One: get Nicole to the rink; Two: keep Nicole distracted and busy until the end of practice)._

She’d had just the idea to keep Nicole distracted, too, making quick work of pulling all the rental skates out of their cubbies and tossing them into a mismatched heap on the floor. Once she was done, Wynonna situated herself in the office, kicking her feet up on the desk as she so often did, and waited for the redhead to stroll in. When someone entered the office, she thought she’d missed the front door opening, but it was really just her sister, looking stressed and maybe a bit green.

“Did you call Nicole?” Waverly asked, Wynonna nodded, and the younger looked at her expectantly, “And?”

“And what?” Wynonna toyed.

“Did you get her to come?”

“That’s more your realm, don’t you think?”

“ _Wynonna,”_ her sister said through gritted teeth, “is she on her way or not?”

“Oh,” Wynonna debated taking it easy on her sister, who was so very clearly stressed, but being a rascal was too much fun. “No.”

“Damn it ‘Nonna, you had _one job_ ,” Waverly whined exasperatedly, “I asked you for one thing.”

She’d wanted to say that technically, _technically_ (according to the plan that was hanging on their refrigerator), Waverly had asked her for _two_ things, but the pure stress in the small brunette’s eyes made her ease up.

“Jesus babygirl. Two words: Un. Clench,” she held up two fingers for emphasis. “Of course she’s coming— _that’s what she said—_ so take a chill pill.”

“You’re the worst,” Waverly said to her as she shakily ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath so as to not blow a gasket. “This needs to be perfect, we can’t Earp this up.”

Wynonna was no stranger to their name being used as a verb. Hell, she’d been the reason for it in the first place—you don’t get to be Purgatory’s resident disaster without someone coining a term for your recklessness.

“We _won’t_ ,” she assured, hearing what most certainly had to be Nicole’s car pulling up, “but you gotta go if you want your plan to go, you know, as planned _._ ”

Waverly scurried off out of sight, leaving Wynonna alone once again. She heard the door swing open and watched Nicole come in, looking thrown together like she literally rolled out of bed and drove right here. The redhead doesn’t bother covering her mouth as she yawns, barely acknowledging Wynonna’s presence as she tosses her keys on the desk next to the brunette.

“Mornin’ Haught Stuff.” 

Nicole looks at her with an unimpressed frown.

“I’m here. Where’s my cake?”

“ _Ah ah ah,_ ” she tuts, pointing her finger at Nicole, “work first, then party.”

“That’s hardly your motto.”

Wynonna only scoffs and pushes herself up from her seat, waving Nicole to follow her. When Nicole’s jaw drops to the floor at the state of the skate room, there’s a part of Wynonna that thinks she’s going to walk straight out the door and get back in her car. It’s certainly the road she herself would’ve taken.

“ _Stay,_ ” she says as if she’s training a puppy when the redhead confirms her suspicions and turns toward the door. 

“What the heck happened in here? Did someone break in?”

“Champ was in charge last night,” she lied, though it was a plausible enough excuse for the redhead not to question it. “This mess is killing you—I can see it on your big stupid face, so have at it.”

Wynonna gestured to the pile of skates on the ground, discreetly using her phone to text Waverly: “ ** _now”._** Nicole got to work, though kept looking up to see if Wynonna was going to help her. A stupid move on her part, really. Even if she weren’t actively trying to trick Nicole, Wynonna wouldn’t have been in any sort of rush to pick up such a mess.

“Wynonna, you called me here to _help_ you, and I’m the one doing all the wo—”

“Shhh,” she held up a finger to quiet the redhead. Within seconds of the signal, Wynonna answered the phone call that she and Waverly had crafted into their plan. She answered it as Nicole looked up at her with a look on her face that said _“Oh, you did not just shush me.”_

Waverly’s voice came from the other end, but the substance of conversation didn’t mean anything to Wynonna, the call being just a decoy—an excuse to leave Nicole to do all the work.

“Mhm..yeah…okay,” she spoke into the receiver before covering the microphone, talking now to Nicole, “You got this, right?”

“Wynonna, seriously, you’re gonna leav—”

“Sorry, what’s that? _Super important_ you say?” She made a point to look at Nicole and shrug. “Yeah, be right there,” she didn’t let Nicole get another word in as she backed out of the room.

She paused a moment outside the door to hear if Nicole would totally abandon the endeavor and leave out of spite. She wouldn’t blame her—first she’d been promised and deprived of cake, and now she was being left behind to do work that wasn’t even her job in the first place. Lucky for Wynonna, there was still that goody-two-shoes tight ass somewhere inside Nicole and after a brief pause, the sound of skates going back into cubbies.

Waverly’s looking at her expectantly when she walks into her office shortly thereafter.

“Phase one complete.”

** PHASE TWO:  **

“It’s not that type of plan, Wynonna, there’s not really _phases_.”

“I think it makes it more official,” she shrugs, about to plop herself down on the couch near her sister’s desk before stopping herself short. She can’t say for sure that her sister and Nicole haven’t _done the deed_ on the sofa, so she decides it best to err on the side of caution.

Waverly doesn’t argue, to preoccupied with chewing on her fingernails to quibble over semantics. She can tell her sister’s nervous about this (for no reason, she thinks, but doesn’t say), that it won’t work out. Wynonna’s had to remind her three different times just this morning that the pair aren’t even actually broken up—something Waverly had been adamant about during every other previous day of the break.

They sit in Waverly’s office until Finning texts Wynonna to tell her that Nedley has released them from practice. Phase two can officially commence now.

“It’s show time,” she says to her sister, and Waverly bolts upright, ready to go. She leads them down to the tunnel, and hides them behind the door to the locker room, still at a vantage point where they can see behind the bench area when it’s cracked open.

“This is it,” Waverly says, swallowing thickly. “Oh, god, this was stupid, it’s not gonna work.”

“Shut up, dude, it’s not like you even needed this stupid plan.”

“What if she doesn’t take me ba—”

“—Don’t you dare finish that.”

“What if she laughs in my face and breaks up with me for real?”

Wynonna can only roll her eyes at the comment. The Detroit Red Wings had a better shot at winning another Stanley Cup before Nicole Haught ever willingly dumped Waverly Earp.

The universe throws them a bone when Nicole enters the area behind the benches without Wynonna even having to prod and badger her there. They watch Nicole look around, presumably for Wynonna, her eyes landing on the water bottles still left behind on the bench. Wynonna nudges Waverly in the ribs when she sees the redhead go to grab the caddies.

_You can never take the goody two shoes out of Nicole Haught._

“Show time, babygirl,” Wynonna pushes her toward the door as Nicole emerges with four caddies of water bottles.

Give her credit, Nicole makes it further than Waverly did almost to the point where Wynonna thinks that she might actually make it to the training room. But, the benefits of having longer arms only go so far, and sure enough, the tower of precariously stacked water bottle caddies comes tumbling down on top of the woman, soaking the front of her shirt.

Waverly’s a bit further away from her than she’d’ve liked, but Wynonna can still hear her as she speaks up.

“I didn’t know the rink had wet t-shirt competitions.”

It sounds so slimy and sleazy coming from her sister and she rolls her eyes at the fact that it had _worked_ on her when Nicole said it.

She sees Nicole freeze, every single one of her muscles tensing. She’s mortified at first, Wynonna notes from a distance, but then she’s mostly confused.

“Waves, what’re you doing?”

“No, shh, you’re ruining it,” Waverly swats at the air in Nicole’s direction. It takes the redhead another second to register what’s going on.

“Oh,” she says when it finally clicks, “well, yeah, I think they might be faulty.”

Waverly bends down to help her pick up the now mostly empty bottles until they’re placed neatly back in their appropriate location.

“Thank you,” Nicole says, shivering slightly.

“Hey, you’re shivering,” her sister points out and all Wynonna can think is how _ridiculous_ it was that Nicole wormed her way into Waverly’s brain with an interaction like _this._ She felt like she was watching something you’d see at a middle school dance. “Here, take this.”

Waverly removes the hoodie she’s wearing, which happens to be the one that Nicole leant her in the original happening of this scene.

“Waves,” Nicole sighs, taking the article of clothing, examining it in her hands. She looks sad, almost like she thinks it’s a breakup. Wynonna cursed under her breath at her sister. It was going relatively well, but it was definitely a rookie move to give Nicole one of her _own_ hoodies.

“Wait, no, this isn’t how it looks,” Waverly stammers, realizing in real time the flaw in her plan.

“You’re not returning my hoodie to break up with me?”

“ _God_ no,” Waverly says softly, toying with her fingers now. “The opposite actually. I…this break was stupid, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe stupider than Champ.”

(Wynonna wasn’t sure _that_ was possible, but it was definitely a close second).

“I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Will you say yes if I ask you to get back together with me—even if we weren’t actually broken up?”

“Well,” Nicole says, looking off in the distance as if to ponder the proposition. Wynonna swears she can feel the exact moment Waverly’s heart stops. “I think that can be arranged.” Waverly releases the breath she’s been holding and once her heart restarts itself, she attacks Nicole, enveloping her in an aggressive hug. “Under the condition that we _talk_ to each other from now on—about _anything_ , bothering us or not.”

“Yes, of course,” Waverly’s voice is muffled against Nicole’s shoulder and neither of them seem to care too much about the drenched shirt the redhead is wearing, or the puddle of water spread across the floor. “I never want to go another day without talking to you for the rest of my life. The last month has been like _torture._ ”

“Not talking isn’t the only thing that’s been torture,” the taller of the two adds, still not being released by the brunette.

“Oh yeah? What else have you missed?”

“I think I could show you better than I could tell you.”

Wynonna practically vomits in her mouth. _Had Nicole always sounded like such a fuckboy?_

Nicole leans in and Waverly beats her to it, crashing them together fully as they kiss for the first time in however many days (Wynonna knows Waverly’s got a count of the exact number; Nicole’s December in the Blue Devils’ calendar in Waverly’s room and she’d seen her sister mark off each day they were apart). It looks not unlike they’re trying to devour each other and she’s almost impressed that neither of them appear to have to come up for air.

_Almost._

“Yes, yes, we’re all very glad Canada’s favorite couple is officially _not on a break_ anymore,” Wynonna emerges from behind the door, slow clapping as she approaches the two. “But some of us are trying to keep our breakfasts down, so if we could _chill_ with the PDA, you’d be doing a great public service.”

As they pull away, Waverly’s ears go red at the tips and Nicole looks slightly miffed that Wynonna had been watching the whole time. The latter places a soft kiss on the top of Waverly’s head and then approaches the older Earp.

“You were a part of this?”

“Yup,” Wynonna nods proudly.

“Let me get this straight—”

“—Well, that would certainly be a first for you.”

Nicole ignores the comment, continuing, “You had Robin miss out on a day of work so that you could wake me up on a Sunday morning, _my birthday,_ to clean up the skate room that _you_ trashed, so that all of this could happen?”

“Yessir.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I did it because I love you.”

“I love you too, and you owe me a cake,” Nicole says, poking her index finger into Wynonna’s shoulder.

“Ooh, maybe don’t let her bake it,” Waverly interjects.

“Why not?”

“Because the last time she baked she used salt instead of sugar,” the woman says, “and I ended up with no eyebrows.”

Nicole shudders at the thought and agrees with her girlfriend.

“Store bought it is.”

The two walked off hand-in-hand, Waverly saying something about all the presents Nicole had to open (because obviously the break didn’t mean that Waverly hadn’t remembered a Christmas gift _or_ Nicole’s birthday), completely leaving the bottle caddies and the sizable puddle on the floor.

“Hey guys?” Wynonna called after them, “Guys? The mess—on the floor? The water? The bottles?”

The happy couple didn’t turn around, ignoring Wynonna, leaving her to grumble and trudge to the training room for a towel.

“I guess I’ll clean it all myself.”

“That’s your _job_ , Wynonna,” Nicole yelled over her shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was struck with the image of Doc hearing Blank Space for the first time and just had to include it. Anyways, Wayhaught is officially done being stupid idiots (...or are they?)
> 
> As always thanks for following along and for all the kind words :)


	25. Life Comes At You Fast

Things were very much on an upswing as far as Nicole Haught was concerned. Clearing things up with Waverly had been like a breath of fresh air for her lungs and a weight off her shoulders. She’d meant what she’d said to Wynonna about initiating the break—their relationship could’ve ended up toxic and detrimental to everyone’s wellbeing. She loved Waverly, of course she did, but she also knew that they hadn’t been _Waverly and Nicole_ for a long time, not with how overwhelming her recovery had been. It wasn’t the relationship that she knew and recognized and treasured and she’d figured a pause and reset would be the best way to fix things.

The second she and Waverly… _reunited_ for the first time after that month apart, Nicole knew first that she was an idiot for ever suggesting any time away from that angel, and second that they were going to be absolutely fine.

She and Waverly had agreed to set time aside in their days for themselves to just connect with each other—no talk about doctors, pain meds, workouts with Wynonna, stat reports or anything remotely work related. It quickly became a favorite time in her day, especially when she convinced Waverly to rewatch _Golden Girls_ with her from the beginning again.

Another product of the destressing was the rate at which her recovery progressed. As a part of getting herself back on track, she made more of an effort to be in the locker room with the team. There was a period of time where she ignored the room like the plague, still crushed under the reminders of how far she was away from being a part of the team again. However, once she made the leap to step foot back in there, she became a vocal presence for the team, whipping them up before games.

Physically, she’d graduated from being confined to the weight room to getting out onto the ice again. Not in pads or even with a stick, but skating nonetheless. Nicole had convinced herself that she’d be able to jump right into full skating, but she’d been sorely mistaken. As it turned out, skating was _not_ like riding a bike, at least not when you’ve had your entire leg rebuilt. (It had taken her nearly two and a half weeks to get used to the feeling of her knee brace while skating).

The skating drills she’d started with made her feel like she was back in a learn-to-skate program, but Rosita and Kate made it abundantly clear that they were necessary. Starting essentially from scratch would allow her to apply the basics and fundamentals so as not to put unnecessary strain on her muscles. Nicole was frustrated at first, especially when she’d have to cut sessions short because of soreness or have to take long pauses when she was especially winded from a drill, because she’d never _not_ been good at something (even after putting her mind to it). Lucky for her, Waverly Earp was there at every session she could be, showing her support from the bench. Less lucky for her, the other Earp was also there.

At _Every. Single. Session._

Wynonna, naturally, was there to be her own brand of supportive—taunting and challenging and baiting her into competition with every drill.

_(“I didn’t waste so much of my very valuable time for you not to be the second greatest hockey player in Purgatory history,” Wynonna had told her._

_“Second behind you, I’m assuming?”_

_Of course Wynonna had meant that, and nodded proudly as Nicole strode back to one of the circles to work on backwards c-cuts)._

In the long run, Nicole supposed she was grateful to have someone so interested in her success.

\---

By the time the regular season found itself winding down, Nicole was still a ways out from being able to play, but she had finally graduated to skating in hockey equipment and after most sessions she stayed after Kate and Rosita had left, getting some stickhandling and passing in with Wynonna.

The Devils had a rare four days in between games as the team waited for the playoff matchups to sort themselves out. They hadn’t had the season they did last year, Nicole figured that that was a feat that would prove difficult to duplicate again, but they still sat comfortably in a playoff spot at the end of 82 games. The extended break between games meant that Nicole shouldn’t have been surprised when Powers and Finning invited her out for drinks at Shorty’s after they finished practice. And the thing about an invitation from either of those two was that you couldn’t refuse it even if you wanted to.

“RED!” She couldn’t even make it three whole steps into the bar before hearing her name shouted across the room. She rolled her eyes when they landed on Vic Powers practically standing on her chair to get her attention, immediately followed by Shan tugging on her arm to get her to sit down.

“God damn it Victoria,” she heard Finning say to Powers as she neared her friends, thinking she’d been scolding the woman. “I told you we were gonna do the whole _Prodigal Son Returneth_ bit.”

“And _I_ told _you_ that that was lame, and ineffective, _Shannon,”_ Vic spat back, crossing her arms. “At least my method got her attention.”

“I don’t think she’d’ve had any problems finding us, not with that ridiculous shirt you’re wearing.”

“You take that back,” Powers gasped, offended on behalf of her navy blue short-sleeve button down adorned with bright pink flamingos that was admittedly _a bit much_ , even for her.

“Uh, hey guys,” Nicole said, interrupting their bickering.

“Well, well, well,” Shan drawled and looked at Nicole as if she were sizing her up, “the prodigal son returneth.”

She rolled her eyes at her teammates but did as she was instructed when the pair simultaneously motioned for her to take a seat.

“What’re you talking about, _prodigal son?”_ Nicole questioned. Last she checked, she hadn’t gone anywhere.

“We’re talking about how you’ve completely ignored us for like a whole year.”

(She realized only then that they were about ten days out from the anniversary of her injury).

“Come on, you know that’s not true,” Nicole reasoned. Sure she hadn’t spent _as much time_ with the pair as she once had, but to say she _completely ignored_ them would be unfair.

“Well let’s look at the evidence, shall we,” Shan made a motion with her hands like she was laying her findings across the tabletop. “April 22, you go to the hospital; April 24, you wake up, we chat, things are fine; then once you get out of the hospital, you’re busy— _we get it_ , you’re relearning how to be a person or whatever; but then once you’re relatively back to normal, we _only_ see each other in passing at the arena. So…”

Nicole bit the inside of her cheek. She’d failed to consider the impacts of her laser focus on recovering and rehabbing her injury on her friends. She knew that she, Waverly, and Wynonna were fine (for the most part) because she’d been living in their home for the majority of the last year; and the same could be said for her friendship with Doc, Rosita, and Kate because of the time they spent together in the training and weight rooms. But, she hadn’t done much else other than rehab and spend time at the homestead and her friendships with two of her closest friends suffered more than she had previously considered. Something akin to guilt washed over her when she realized that she’d gotten rather chummy with the new girl in town, leaving the other two essentially tossed to the side like last year’s toys.

“The point of all that,” Vic interjected before Nicole could rebut, “is that we miss you, Red.”

“I’m…I’m sorry guys,” Nicole sighed, offering her regrets. They hadn’t mentioned it, but Nicole was reminded of how she had pushed them away in a moment of self-pity—a low point in her recovery where she’d resigned herself to the fact she’d never play again. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to, look at, or even think of her teammates knowing that she wasn’t _one of them_ anymore, never would be. “I never meant to make you guys feel that way.”

“We know,” Vic answered; Shan, who looked like she was fighting it, nodded her agreement. “Just, if you do it again...”

“I won’t,” she said, catching the serious eyes of the women on either side of her.

“You better not,” Shan pointed her finger sternly at Nicole. “Because if you do, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“I’ve already almost _actually_ been murdered,” Nicole joked. It was a joke she and Wynonna shared, but Waverly _hated._ “So your threats don’t really scare me.”

“You underestimate my murderous capabilities, Haught.” (Nicole swore she heard Vic’s neck physically crack with the speed she whipped her head over, like she was discovering a new, unsettling side of her friend).

When a waitress approached their table with a tray of drinks and Nicole realized that it really _had_ been a long time since she’s done anything remotely social, considering the staff upgrade at the establishment. Vic distributed the beverages amongst the three of them, Nicole pulling a sour face when she got a taste of something that vaguely resembled beer in the worst possible way. Vic, from beside her, pulled a similar face.

“Nic, I think I got your gross excuse for a beer,” she gagged, pushing her glass away.

“Says the woman who drinks blueberry beer,” Shan said, sipping her own choice of beer—a safe, unassuming, middle of the road Molson Dry. Vic’s Wachusett Blueberry was the exact thing Nicole just about choked on; it came from a brewery somewhere in New England and she wasn’t even sure how Powers managed to find it here. Nicole’s choice was the Black Rock beer she’d stayed true to since the first time she set foot in the joint—she’d asked Shorty to give her whatever he had on tap and found it potable enough to make it her go-to.

“You just don’t have the refined taste buds that I have,” Vic said, swapping her glass and Nicole’s.

“So…what’s new? You know, since apparently I’ve been ignoring you two for a year?” She asked, knowing more than anything that the three of them needed to catch up.

“I just bought a new car,” Shan told her proudly.

“Ooh, what kind? Is it pretty?”

“ _She’s_ gorgeous. Sexy midnight blue Mustang GT, that,” Shan put her hand up to stop the comment both of them clock on the tip of Powers’ tongue, “for the last time, I will _not_ be making any modifications to.”

“Okay,” Powers interrupted anyway, because when Vic has something on her mind, there’s no stopping her. “But hear me out, Nic, tell me I’m not the only one who thinks it wouldn’t look even sexier with a nice racing stripe right down the middle.”

“Vic, you know I love you, but…” Not wanting to say it outright, Nicole opted to shrug as she took a sip from the glass in front of her. She _didn’t_ think the car would look better with a racing stripe, and actually would probably make Finning look like some type of high school douchebag who claims to be a motorhead. Vic appears only mildly offended at the lack of support for her response.

“Whatever, you two lack the _vision_ anyway.”

“Anything new with you, or just daydreaming about ruining Shan’s car?”

From the way Vic sat up with an air of importance (more so than her natural state, which is saying a lot), Nicole can tell she’d been waiting for the question all night.

“Oh nothing,” Powers answered through a faux-casual smirk, contradicting the mannerisms of just a second prior.

“Nothing?”

“Nope.”

“I find that hard to believe. You once called a linemate meeting to tell us about the new book you bought.”

“To be fair, most of the time I’m convinced she _can’t_ read,” Shan interjected, “so that _was_ important, ground-breaking news.”

“Victoria Powers, you’re telling me there hasn’t been even _one_ newsworthy thing that’s happened to you in a whole year?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” Vic doubled down, “unless you count _this_ as newsworthy.”

Powers held out her left hand to show to the two at the table, and Nicole notes that this is news even to Finning by the way she gasps from beside her. She wondered how neither of them noticed before now.

“Oh my god, Vic!” Nicole exclaimed, admiring the sizable, shimmering rock placed delicately in the silver band. “When?”

“Gen popped the question last week, casually, in between Kraft Dinner and starting a _Back to the Future_ marathon.” Vic divulged with a dreamy look on her face, one not often seen by Nicole. She was more accustomed to the confident, cocky _sunavabitch_ , but had caught glimpses of it from time to time—though she now realized only really occurred when the woman was talking about Gen. “She’s perfect and she gets me.”

Nicole can’t help but laugh internally. From the moment she’d met them, Nicole just assumed that Powers and Finning were a thing. It made sense—the pair were essentially attached at the hip, knew a _relationship-level_ number of details about each other, and Nicole still to this day has quite literally never seen one without the other. It was only when Powers introduced her to Genevieve that Nicole gave up her suspicions; even over one dinner she could see that Vic and Gen were perfectly matched for each other. Vic and Shan laughed in her face when they figured out that Nicole thought they were a couple. As it turned out, they weren’t, nor had they ever been, romantically involved. Just _really good friends._ Just a couple of queer lady pals, if you will.

“This is so exciting! I’m so happy for the both of you,” Nicole clapped her hands before raising a glass to toast her friend. “To the happy couple. If Vic Powers can get married, then there’s hope for the rest of us yet.”

The three clinked their glasses together and drank to that.

“Speaking of weddings,” Shan said, mischief in her voice, “when’re you gonna sack up and put a ring on your girl, Red?”

Nicole, still mid-sip of her beer, choked on the liquid, half of it coming out of her nose as she spluttered. Apparently she was stupid to dismiss Finning’s _murderous capabilities_ because she was certain the woman was trying to kill her. The other two at the table laughed as she tried to regain her bearings.

“What?” She croaked, wiping away the beer that had dribbled over her chin.

“You heard me. When are you gonna pop the question to Waverly?”

“I-i-i…” Nicole stammered, unable to find an answer.

“T-t-t-t-today, junior,” Vic teased.

“I…pffft…I mean, not that I don’t _love_ Waverly, I do—of course I do—but don’t you think it’s a bit early to even _think_ about that?”

Finning’s unimpressed look said more than any words she could’ve used.

“Look, Rook,” Shan said.

“I’m not a rookie anymore.”

“You’ll always be _Rook_ to me. But regardless, I’ve seen you with Waverly, and I’ve heard Waverly talk about you far too much for my liking—I can’t think of two people who should get married more than the both of you.”

“Yeah,” Vic seconded, “and she knows me and Gen, so you know it’s legit.”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. It’s not like she hadn’t thought about it; the idea of Waverly Earp in a long white dress walking down the aisle to her, Nicole Rayleigh Haught, made her heart race in all the right ways. That being said, she still wasn’t sure if it was the right time. “I mean…we _just_ got back together and on the same page. What if a proposal undoes all of that because she’s not ready?”

(She didn’t need to add that it had been three whole months since she and Waverly reconciled).

“But what if she _is_ ready?”

Nicole smiled at the thought, but still couldn’t bring herself to imagine herself being so bold to ask for Waverly’s hand just yet. Some days she still tried to wrap her head around the fact she’d been dating Waverly at all.

“We’re not gonna push you if you’re not ready, just think about it.” Finning said and Nicole could feel the subject being dropped entirely as the woman drained the rest of her beer. Vic didn’t add, but internally Nicole thought that the woman was definitely a little glad to not have to share the wedding spotlight.

“Anything else new that I’ve missed? Any news around the team that Waverly can’t tell me?” Nicole asked after a moment.

“She hasn’t made it official to Dolls or anything yet, but Lecie’s hanging ‘em up at the end of the playoffs,” Vic answered, and Nicole felt a bit sad that she’d missed out on her last possible season playing with the woman. Wilson was one of the veterans that she connected with best, and between losing Kym last season and now Lecia, an alternate captain, Nicole knew that the locker room would be _very_ different next season.

“Oh my gosh, what a bummer,” Nicole lamented, “but good for her, she deserves it.”

“I just hope we go far for her.”

“It would be nice to go out on top, wouldn’t it?”

“Mhm,” Shan nodded, “it’s gonna be a _bitch_ replacing her though.”

Lecia Wilson was one of the best wingers Nicole had the honor of playing with and in terms of leadership she knew that hers were big shoes to fill. She’d hate to have to be in charge of finding a replacement for someone like that. They had people on their roster who she thought might be able to step up and get the job done, but Nicole knew that they’d miss the presence she brought to the locker room more than anything else.

“Especially because the free agent market is looking drier that the Sahara Desert and we have a grand total of _no_ draft picks this year,” Powers brought up the crucial point. The Devils had used their draft picks as bargaining pieces in the rebuild that sent them from worst to first in the span of one season, leaving them with zero for the upcoming draft in June.

The conversation flowed and shifted, declining in coherence as they drank, but when all was said and done, Nicole walked out of Shorty’s that night with a whole lot of new information and the seed of an idea growing in her head.

\---

“Nicole Haught flies down the wing, she takes the _gorgeous_ saucer pass from Earp and… _OHH!_ She misses the net spectacularly and the Devils lose…” Wynonna narrated, finishing her dramatic commentary with a series of boos and jeers.

They’d been playing around after one of their sessions, an all-in-all good one. Though she was hardly _flying_ down the wing, she was considerably faster than she had been at the beginning of the month, which she took pride in, even if Wynonna was right to say she missed the net spectacularly. She’d only been back to shooting for a couple days now and she was _Rusty_ (though to say it with a capital ‘R’ would still be an understatement).

Looking at the FitBit she wore on her wrist, Nicole noticed that she had only a small window of time to catch Dolls before he left for the day, and she _really_ needed to talk to him.

It had been weeks since she spoke to Shan and Vic at Shorty’s, the calendar now approaching mid-June, the draft passing just a few days before. The Devils found themselves no match for the reloaded Calgary Outlaws, going out in six games in the first round. Lecia made her retirement official to upper management a week later, and Waverly couldn’t help but bring up the team’s struggles to find a suitable replacement. Apparently, despite their recent success, the Blue Devils weren’t a desirable prospect in the eyes of the league’s free agents.

 _Perfect for my plan_ , Nicole thought.

“Hey, I gotta cut this short, Dolls needs to talk to me,” Nicole said, making her way to the bench.

“What, you finally gettin’ canned?” Wynonna snarked. “Boss man finally shipping you out for some decent talent?”

She narrowed her eyes at the woman, and for a second, debated on whether or not she should actually go through it. The debate is short-lived of course, because Nicole knew that Wynonna Earp had never been serious about a damn thing in her life, and especially not when it came to putting her friends down.

“No, he just needs to talk,” she said, though she knew she’d be the one talking.

“Okay,” Wynonna gives her a skeptical look, but follows her off the ice to remove their skates. “You good to get back to the homestead yourself, then? I’m gonna go see if Doc wants to hang.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She wasn’t going to say anything that jeopardized her newfound prospects of the house alone with Waverly.

She found herself outside of the GM’s office with the offer in her head, with a solid argument for her case and everything. She knocked on the closed door with the appropriate level of apprehension. She didn’t necessarily _fear_ Dolls, per se, but the guy’s incapacity for human connection made her a little uneasy.

“Enter,” his voice came flatly from across the door. His face remained stoic as he extended his arm, an invitation for her to take a seat. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Yeah, uh, well,” she said, words failing her for a moment. Doubt crept in for just a moment.

 _Just ask, Haught. Worst he can say is ‘no’,_ she reasoned with herself. _Or he could laugh in your face and tell you you’re an idiot for even suggesting such a thing. There’s always that possibility._

With Dolls just sitting there, blinking at her expectantly, Nicole realized that she actually had to buck up and make the offer.

“How’s the search for a new forward going?” She asked.

“I’m sure Waverly’s told you all about it.”

“Not anything that she can’t tell me,” she knew there were boundaries between her (a member of the team) and her girlfriend (a member of the management) that restricted Waverly from telling her certain details of team affairs. Nicole figured Dolls was testing her to see if Waverly was respecting those boundaries.

“Right, so then I think you know it’s going terribly.”

“You don’t have any leads?”

“Nope, not a one,” he sighed, tossing his pen down on top of his desk. “Did you have anything to add or did you just come here to remind me of how poorly I’m doing my job? Because believe me, I hear that enough from Bunny Loblaw every day.”

“N-no, of course not,” she stammered. She hadn’t meant to insult Dolls in any capacity.

“No, you don’t have anything to add?” Dolls quirked and eyebrow.

“No, I do. I actually think I might have a solution to your problem.”

“If it’s another one of your exes then I don’t think we’ll need the drama.” Nicole narrowed her eyes at the man, offended by his comment. “I’m kidding, obviously.”

“Right, _obviously_. Has anyone told you you’re terrible at jokes?”

“Pretty much everyone,” he admitted, a hint of a breathy chuckle to his voice. “Alright, who is it?”

“Wynonna Earp.”

That got Dolls laughing. (A sound Nicole was certain she’d be hearing in her nightmares).

“ _Whew_ , that’s a good one Haught,” he said, still calming down his laughter. “Wynonna Earp? The woman who’s barely motivated enough to run the ticket office? Nicole, you can’t be serious.”

“And what if I am?”

Dolls’ amusement disappeared immediately. 

“What on earth makes you think Wynonna Earp could play for this team?”

“Didn’t Bunny Loblaw say she’d rather have Wynonna on the team than me?” She challenged, calling back to the meeting that ended with her getting benched.

“You and I both know that she was not serious. And even if she were, she’s nowhere near sound enough mind to make a suggestion like that.”

“Look, just hear me out,” she pleaded her case as Dolls gave her a look to proceed, “Wynonna’s good. She knows the game and she’s been working out with me every step of the way.”

“Okay, but when was the last time she even played competitively?”

“High school, but—”

“—Jeez, Haught, you can’t be serious about this. We can’t just take on a washed-up high school hockey player who hasn’t seen the ice in the better part of a decade, who happens to be the sister of one of our Assistant GM—who’s already dating one of our players, I might add. Do you understand what that looks like?”

“Look, Waverly doesn’t need to be involved. She doesn’t need to know, that way there’s no bias whatsoever.” Dolls only looked at her, and she struggled to decipher what he was thinking. The thought of how much she should _never get into a poker match with that guy_ floated around somewhere in the back of her mind. “Just a chance, please. She might surprise you.”

He looks deep in thought as he runs his hand along his chin, mulling over Nicole’s botched proposition. Every argument she’d had was lost to the sheer nerves of essentially being in the _principal’s office_ , but she’d hoped it would still be enough.

“While I appreciate you looking out for your friend,” he said after a beat, “we are nowhere near that desperate yet. For now it’s a no.”

“But—”

“No buts, Nicole, and that’s final.” he said. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“No,” she muttered and stood up to leave when he returned to his files on the desk. She paused once she reached the door, pondering whether or not to burst back into the room, but decided not to risk her good standing.

\---

Two weeks later, when Dolls catches her in the hallway and hands her a letter, she can’t help but smirk. She doesn’t need to open it to know its contents.

“Guess you were that desperate after all,” she chirped at him.

“It’s just a workout, and it’s just the _chance_ you asked for. No guarantees we sign her—and Waverly knows nothing about this, understood?”

“Gotcha, boss,” she saluted the man who rolled his eyes despite his smirk. “She has an actual shot, right? If she impresses, you’ll seriously think about it?”

There’d been the faintest hint of a nod on Dolls’ part as he walked away. It wasn’t much, but it was as good as a written promise in her book.

She ran her thumb across the corners of the envelope, reading the official team return address in the top left, the words _To: Wynonna Earp_ written neatly across the center (even from the handwriting, Nicole can tell it _killed_ Dolls to address a letter like this to Wynonna).

Perfect timing as always, Nicole hears Wynonna Earp jogging toward her, skates slung over her shoulder holding her stick in her right hand.

“Icy Haught!” She called as she caught up to her best friend. “Dude, you should _def_ see if you can’t get yourself a sponsorship deal with IcyHot.”

“I’ll be sure to look into it,” Nicole said, knowing sometimes it was easier to appease the woman than get into a discussion on the matter.

“Hey, whatcha got there? Pink slip? Walkin’ papers?”

Nicole pulled a mocking face at the brunette, extending the letter to Wynonna. “Actually, it’s for you.”

The woman tore into the envelope cautiously, eyes skimming over the words. Nicole’s smile grew exponentially the moment she saw Wynonna’s jaw drop onto the floor.

“I…I don’t understand…I—”

Nicole had done it. She’d rendered the great Wynonna Earp speechless. (She’d pat herself on the back later for it).

“Nicole, what is—why—how?”

“You have been to virtually every single thing I’ve done to get back onto the ice since the second I got out of the hospital. You might be the only reason I have a shot in hell at even thinking about playing again. Wynonna, this is the only way I could think of to repay you for what you’ve done for me.”

“Haught,” Wynonna breathed, tears barely evident in the corners of her eyes.

“It’s not much—just an amateur workout, but I have Dolls’ word that you’ll be given a fair shot.”

“I…don’t know what to say,” the brunette said, eyes still glued to the paper in her hands.

“You could start with _thank y—”_

Before she can finish her sentence, Wynonna wrapped her arms around her, squeezing tightly in a rare outburst of physical affection.

“Thankthankyouthankyou,” she squealed, “I could kiss you right now but I wouldn’t wanna move in on my sister’s girl.”

“Probably for the best,” Nicole replied, thinking out loud. “Speaking of, Waverly can’t know about this. That way there’s no conflict of interest.”

“A tryout for a pro team _and_ I have to keep a secret from Waverly? Seriously, this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me, Haught,” Wynonna looked her dead in the eye for a moment, but just as quickly as things got sentimental, they shift to the normal _Earpier_ tone when Wynonna jumps up to her feet. “Come on, let’s get a move on.”

“What?”

“The ice. We’ve got work to do. I have…” Wynonna trailed, re-scanning the letter, “T-minus nine days to the workout and Wynonna Earp doesn’t _not_ impress.”  
\---

Nicole planned to sit in the stands during Wynonna’s workout, just to be there for moral support. But when the day came, Nedley insisted that Nicole be there to help with the drills. She wasn’t necessarily sure how much help she’d be, but she knew she couldn’t just turn down the Sheriff.

The plan Dolls had put together was no joke—definitely harder than any of the preseason workouts that the coaching staff put together for the actual players on the team, and she was certain Nedley was judging her with a heightened degree of scrutiny. Sometimes Nicole forgot about the kind of reputation Wynonna carried around town, but she knew Nedley certainly hadn’t.

To her credit, Wynonna passed all of the drills with relative ease and a certain swagger about her that only she could pull off. She took every pass from Nicole, good or bad, and made the play that the coach asked of her. Her shots were accurate enough, though not completely spot on, and her skating was crisp enough that it left Dolls and Nedley with no choice but to give her an invitation to work out with some of the girls on the team.

For that event, scheduled just a month before preseason was set to kick off, Nicole was not invited to facilitate, still (annoyingly) not cleared for any team activities. From the stands, however, Nicole could tell that this team workout was a mere formality. Wynonna had impressed, and the team needed another forward. The day after, Wynonna got a phone call from Dolls asking for a meeting in his office.

The meeting, which Nicole tried her best to eavesdrop on from the hall, consisted of Dolls, Wynonna and Nedley. There was a distinct lack of Waverly Earp, which told Nicole all she needed to know. Nedley smirked to himself leaving the office as the meeting adjourned and she saw her best friend walk out the room, her expression giving nothing away. Her first confirmation came from the glimpse she caught of Dolls’ face—an expression that said, _“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”_

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Nicole said, producing a bottle not of champagne, but the _good_ whiskey that Wynonna only enjoyed on special occasions.

\---

 **CEWHL** **@CEWHL**

#CEWHLFREEAGENCY: Free Agent forward Jolene DiMoni signs 3-year, $390K contract with @blackwidowsCEWHL

_10 Aug—12:00 PM EST_

\---

 **CEWHL** **@CEWHL**

#CEWHLFREEAGENCY: Former @powerCEWHL netminder Mikaila Perkins signs 2-year, $400K contract with @blackwidowsCEWHL

_10 Aug—12:05 PM EST_

\---

 **CEWHL** **@CEWHL**

BREAKING: Purgatory Blue Devils (@bluedevilsCEWHL) ink amateur forward Wynonna Earp to a 1-year, $70K contract. More details to follow. #CEWHLFREEAGENCY

_10 Aug—3:35 PM EST_

\---

 **Purgatory Blue Devils** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

HOMEGROWN TALENT— With our newest signing, the Blue Devils’ Wynonna Earp becomes the team’s first hometown player and becomes just the second professional athlete to be born in Purgatory (the first being Head Coach, Randy Nedley).

_10 Aug—2:00 PM MST_

\---

 ** TSN:  ** **Who’s Going Where? A Comprehensive Breakdown of CEWHL Free Agency  
 _(Story from Jeremy Chetri, Purgatory Gazette)_**

The CEWHL free agency pool may have been small this year, but it has been full of excitement. So-called league “bottom feeders” have made big moves to help boost their ceilings, while playoff contenders have added pieces in hopes of bolstering their squads for deeper runs.

Free agency opened up on July 1st, and teams were fast out of the gate to sign the top prospects. Saskatoon Rush signed arguably this year’s most valuable free agent, defender Sam Shay, who opted not to re-sign in Toronto and looks poised to add much needed production to the Rush blue line. Toronto quickly filled the vacancy on its own defensive end by signing Caroline Higgs-Benson from Victoria.

Defense wasn’t the only thing on the market this summer as forwards found new homes all across the country. Emily Crandall, rookie of the year just four seasons ago, has moved from Calgary to Edmonton and looks to bring her playmaking to the other side of the Battle of Alberta. Quebec Capitales dipped their toes into the free agent market with their signings of checking forwards Meghan Amaya and Katrina Sanderson.

Goaltenders looking to make big splashes in their new homes include Lyndsey Phillips (making the move from Charlottetown to Halifax), Francesca D’Angelo (Moncton to Winnipeg), and Kiersten Eckert (defending Stratford’s net now after spending seven years in Kelowna).

There are two major storylines to come out of this period, however.

The first comes out of the Eastern Conference, where Sherbrooke made two big signings and look to take a leap into Conference supremacy. Filling the hole left behind the retirement of Alanna Pierce and the decision of former All-Rookie goalie Marie Williams to leave for the Minnesota Whitecaps (NWHL), the Black Widows swooped in and signed Mikaila Perkins, a goaltender who flew under most teams’ radars. Sherbrooke will certainly be hoping to get immediate production out of the 27-year-old as they make a run at the McCallion Cup. Their second signing comes as more of a shock, and with a lot more controversy. After serving a 41-game suspension for an incident that hospitalized Purgatory Blue Devils forward, Nicole Haught, and resulted in Haught missing the entirety of this past season, Jolene DiMoni was released by the Brandon Bobcats and has not played since. Questions circulated if the 30-year-old would find another home in the league after what certainly was not her first interaction with Player Safety. Those questions appear to have been answered with her signing of a 3-year, $390K contract with the Sherbrooke Black Widows. DiMoni’s play will add a level of grit that the team has been missing, and Coach Clootie hopes that that will push the Black Widows over their in-province rivals in Trois-Rivieres in a battle for the Eastern Conference.

And finally, a CEWHL story would be incomplete without news out of Purgatory. The Blue Devils shocked everyone across the league last season with their signing of NWHL Star Hannah Hastings, and many believed that to be the bar for noteworthy signings. That bar was immediately surpassed when GM Xavier Dolls announced Monday that the team would be signing 28-year-old amateur forward Wynonna Earp, who previously worked in the team’s home arena. The Devils, desperately needing to fill a roster spot vacated by winger Lecia Wilson, sent out feelers to much of the free agent pool, all of which came up empty. Shortly thereafter, Earp was given an amateur tryout by Dolls and Head Coach Randy Nedley, and after impressing at the tryout and in a runaround with some of the members of the Devils squad, was offered a one-year contract for $70K—the minimum league salary. The signing of the forward marks just the second time in league history that a player entered the league via amateur tryout, but if Earp suits up for the team in just one game, she will make history as the first to accomplish the feat.

As we approach the start of preseason, and are just six weeks out from opening day, anticipation is building for the new season to see how these players fare in their new homes.

_Tuesday, August 11_

\---

Timing was _more_ than on their side when Wynonna’s signing officially went through. Waverly had been out of town on an errand for Dolls on Monday and only arrived back in Purgatory late Tuesday afternoon. Nicole knew her girlfriend had _definitely_ heard the news and would _definitely_ not be pleased to find out they’d been hiding this under her nose. It was necessary, she knew (hell, even without Waverly’s involvement people had been calling it nepotism and an unfair deal on Twitter), she just hated having to keep such a big accomplishment from someone they both loved so deeply.

Nicole and Wynonna were lounging on the sofa in the den with a couple of cold ones when they heard Waverly’s Jeep pull into the driveway. Not even a moment later, the small brunette burst through the door with enough force to shake the homestead.

“Nicole! Wynonna!” The woman bellowed. Nicole looked at Wynonna and her best friend looked back at her, the both of them looking like two middle schoolers who got caught starting a food fight in the cafeteria.

“Yes?” Wynonna answered, asking like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“Is there anything the two of you would like to tell me?” Waverly said, standing in front of the two of them with her arms crossed. Decked out in her glasses and pantsuit (that had _no business_ looking that good on her, Nicole digresses), Waverly looked a bit like a middle school teacher about to give the pair detention.

“I-I, well—” Nicole stammered, knowing Waverly was her weakness and confrontation was not her strong suit.

“No, not really,” Wynonna shrugged again, clearly not fazed in the slightest.

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yup.”

“Mhm, _Nicole?”_

“Yeah?” She answered, about to crack under Waverly’s stare.

“Anything the two of you haven’t thought to tell me about?”

Nicole turned to Wynonna and mouthed a sorry to the woman who rolled her eyes and muttered _“Whipped”_ under her breath.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about Wynonna’s tryout. It was the only way to convince Dolls to do it,” she explained. “We didn’t want it to look like you abused your power to get Wynonna on the team.”

Waverly’s face softened, realizing that that was actually a pretty valid reason to keep her in the dark.

“Oh, well, I guess that makes sense. I just wish I could’ve been a part of it,” Waverly shrugged, “this is huge Wynonna.”

“It’s alright,” Wynonna said coolly, “it’s really no big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal, Wynonna. You’re a professional athlete,” Waverly reminded and then almost in real time realized something, taking in a sharp breath, “My sister and my girlfriend are professional athletes!”

“And you’re working for the team that we play for,” Nicole quickly added.

Waverly smiled softly at the thought, taking a seat down in between the two of them and resting her head on Nicole’s shoulder.

“I guess life is good,” her girlfriend said, leaning up to press a kiss to her lips.

When they break apart, Nicole finds herself lost in the ethereal being that is Waverly Earp and can’t help but agree.

 _Yeah, life really is good,_ she thinks to herself.

(There may or may not have been a certain conversation with a certain pair of teammates floating around in her head).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, surely Wynonna being on the team will run smoothly :)
> 
> Thanks as always for your support and following along!!


	26. Hey Rookie, Welcome to the League

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there Gents, Ladies, and Theydies, finally the moment we've all been waiting for ;)

**_PURGATORY GAZETTE_ **

**_ SPORTS: _ ** **_Year Three Kickoff for Blue Devils in Purgatory_ **

**_By: Jeremy Chetri_ **

_Season number three with Randy Nedley at the helm is about to kick off tonight for the Blue Devils. Back-to-back playoff berths have team morale high, but questions circle the team as the AB/BC Division has beefed up its competition this year. It’s a revenge tour of sorts for the Devils this year, finishing third in the division a season ago before bowing out in the first round of the playoffs, losing to the Calgary Outlaws in five games._

_It was a slow offseason for the Devils, just two roster moves to note—Lecia Wilson out (We wish her the best of luck in her retirement), Wynonna Earp in. So what does this mean for the hometown team? Head Coach, Randy “The Sheriff” Nedley, says that not having much roster turnover is good for team chemistry. “We’ll call it cautiously optimistic,” says Nedley, “There’s a lot of work to be done to get where we wanna go, so it was nice to not have to spend valuable time on introductions.” The newest member of the Devils is hardly a stranger—to the team or to the town. Earp is a born and bred Purgatorian and the arena bears the name of her great-great-grandfather. It’s a part of her legacy, which is why she’s been appropriately dubbed “The Heir” by her Blue Devils teammates. Earp notes that her chemistry with the team comes from the familiarity of working closely with the team since they moved in on day one, but especially her friendship with center, Nicole Haught._

_The Blue Devils are hopeful for the return of the former Rookie of the Year and one-time league MVP. Haught’s recovery has flown very much under the radar since her injury just under a year and a half ago, but Devils trainers, Rosita Bustillos and Kate Cummings, say that her progress is astounding. Team Doctor John Henry Holliday didn’t disclose details, but suggested we could be seeing the return of Nicole Haught sooner rather than later. That is a far cry from the concern shared by many that the young star’s injury would spell the end of her career. Haught herself notes a point in her rehabilitation where she feared she’d never walk normally again, let alone lace up her skates and play. Time will tell if her return will be the comeback story we all are wishing for._

_Haught rejoining the lineup will certainly bolster a strong core, mixed with young talent and seasoned veterans. Shae Pressman is now entering her eighth season with the franchise, and third as team captain, coming off eager to finally reach the pinnacle of the league’s success. “No time like the present to be the best,” Pressman said at the team’s media day earlier this week, “I’m excited. I can feel something special about this year. We’re ready to show the league we’re legit.” Pressman’s comment follows those made by Vance Kerr of the CEWHL Network, calling the Devils’ historic record two seasons ago a “fluke” and calling Pressman out personally despite the career highs she had in multiple statistical categories. The team is no stranger to blatant criticisms and high expectations, team owner Bunny Loblaw still vocal as ever. Nedley has done his best to keep the team focused on the game and to quiet the noise, which has mostly been successful, Pressman’s comment the only hint of a verbal rebuttal to Kerr’s challenge._

_Actions speak louder than words, and the Devils will have just the chance to do just that with their first shot at revenge when they face off against Calgary tonight. Tickets are sold out but fans can still catch the game locally on GRTV, or nationally on CBC and CEWHLN at 7:00 PM._

_Wednesday, October 7th_

\---

“Special delivery!” Nicole called, entering the locker room, carrying a box that (believe it or not) was taller than her.

The rest of the team jumped to their feet, excited at the arrival of their new equipment—a fresh batch of special ordered sticks from _Revenant_ brand. Each player was given two sticks—custom flex, custom blades—specific to their liking to use as a part of the team’s new deal with the brand. The energy in the room as Nicole cut into the box was not unlike Christmas morning. The shipment of sticks had been delayed, so Wynonna figured that none of them would actually use the new ones in the game today, needing to get a couple practices in with the new twigs before breaking them out in game.

Their game was primetime, the first game of the season for the entire league, the main feature for _Hockey Night In Canada_. Right off the bat they were faced with a division rival with the Calgary Outlaws rolling into town. All eyes would be on Purgatory tonight, no other games going on across the league.

Wynonna couldn’t wait.

“Ooh, _boner alert,”_ she said to Nicole as she approached her seat in her locker, not dressed for the game, but rather in a dapper grey number that had clearly been picked out by Waverly.

Twirling a bit, Nicole played into the brunette’s comments, showing off her outfit.

“I guess I do clean up well,” the redhead smirked as she sat down in her stall and nodded toward the baby blue jerseys that hung in the lockers of the rest of the team, “but I think I’d rather be wearing those.”

“You’ll be back out there rockin’ it soon enough, Red.”

Wynonna earned herself a smile from Nicole, knowing that the girl was on the precipice of being cleared for non-contact practice—a huge (and one of the final) step in returning to play. Doc had let it slip to her one night that he and Rosita were planning to give her the clear to go some time next week, but hadn’t told the redhead just yet.

The rest of the team was busy playing with their new toys, trying to get the feeling of the pretty new sticks, rolls of tape being tossed around the room. They took their time, getting it just perfect. Each tape job was unique to its owner and just as sacred. (For a superstitious hockey player, the difference between a good game and a bad one may just come down to the TJ).

Wynonna sat in her stall in the locker room, her stick already taped and ready to go, running her thumb over the letters stitched onto the back of her new jersey, awestruck at just how much of her life could change in right around two years. She’d once thought this team would be more trouble than it was worth, but now here she was playing for that very same team. She never even thought she’d get an opportunity like this after she stopped playing after her junior year of high school, but the Devils were giving her a chance. She never thought she’d become best friends with the dorky, uptight redhead sitting in the stall next to her, but now she couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Three knocks came on the locker room door a few minutes later, the rest of the team settling down as Nicole hopped up to allow entrance to whoever was knocking. The clock on the wall read just about 6 PM, so Wynonna figured there was only one man who that could be. When Nedley entered the room behind Nicole, she knew she’d been right. A respectful hush fell over the team at the sight of their coach, ready to listen to what he had to say to them.

“Alright, how’re we feelin’, ladies?” He asked, stoic as ever in his coachly, business-like tone. A series of hums and nods came from the team, an air of eager anticipation for the start of the season. “Good, now you know I ain’t one for speeches, so I’ll be brief. We’ve got a job to do, if you do it well and you do it the right way, well, there ain’t no way in hell we’re walking out of here tonight without a win.”

 _“Yeahhhhhh,”_ came a few cheers of agreement from the crew, and even more noise coming from clapping and the banging of hands on the stalls. Everyone looked ready, that much Wynonna was certain of.

“I believe Nicole’s got a few words for you all now,” Nedley called the redhead up to the center of the room, handing her a piece of paper.

“Well like Sheriff said,” Nicole started, Nedley taking a step back to give her the attention, “we’ve got work to do. But I know for damn sure that _when_ we do our jobs right, we’re gonna put on a show out there. That team in the visitors’ locker room, yeah they’re tough, yeah they’re good, but _no one_ , not a single player on that team is tougher or better than anyone on this team. It’s not gonna be handed to us, and it’s hard work. But when you get tired and you’re thinking about taking the easy way out of a play, think of how it felt to watch them celebrate—to watch them move on in the playoffs—on _our_ ice, and use it. Use it as fire to do the work that needs to be done to make the right play.”

She paused for effect, the team hanging on every word. Wynonna knew the redhead could be like a walking bumper sticker, sure, but this motivational leader was a side she was glad and not at all surprised to see. (She’d make fun of her for it later—sounding like the coach in every sports movie ever—but for now, it was just what the team needed). Nedley nodded along from behind her.

“As we kick off this season,” her best friend continued, “think about all the work we’ve put in to get to this day. Think about the girl next to you, the one going into battle with you every night. If you can’t get yourself up…”

 _So many jokes_ , she thought to herself, but didn’t vocalize it. She was a professional in a professional environment, after all.

“…for a big rivalry, don’t do it for yourself, do it for your teammates who’ve worked just as hard as you to get here. Now, we’ve all got a game to win, yeah?”

“Yeah!” The team chorused, Vic, Shan and Shae among the loudest voices.

“Time for the starters then. _Drumroll please_ ,” Nicole said, eyeing the paper Nedley had given her. One of the things Wynonna missed most was the big dramatic reading of the starting lineup by one of the players on the team, a favorite hockey tradition of hers. The team took to banging on the bench seats in their stalls, anticipation building with each second they drew nearer to game time. “Starting on the left we got the fastest thing on skates, it’s _The Jet_ —it’s Jenna Boardman!” The room erupted in cheers, the two adjacent players patting Jenna on the back, all hyped and ready to go. “In the middle, we got the one, the only Corine Saunders! And on the right…you know her…you love her…it’s _Captain Canada_ herself—Shae Pressman!” The team hollered especially loudly for Shae, the woman standing to take a bow after being coaxed into it, congratulations more than due after being picked to captain the National Team at the Olympics this coming February. “On defense, it’s big four-nine, Hannah Hastings! Her partner in crime, she’s as sweet as a _peach_ ‘til you get in her way—Georgia Thomas! And in between the pipes, we’ve got Lauren ‘ _The Thriller’_ Miller!”

The team jumped up to their feet, led by Nedley’s clapping, pushing the team to stand in a circle, right arms raised to the sky.

“Alright ladies, Devils on three—one, two, three!”

 _“DEVILS!”_ They chanted in unison, lining up to go out for warmups.

As the rookie, Wynonna was supposed to lead them out for the game, and moved to do so until she was stopped by Nicole, the redhead placing both her hands on Wynonna’s shoulders.

“Nervous?” She asked.

“You obviously don’t know me that well,” Wynonna answered smugly. She was _Wynonna Earp_ , she didn’t get nervous. And even if she did, she sure as hell wouldn’t get nervous over a child’s game she was being paid to play as an adult.

“Right, my bad,” Nicole waved it off as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Ready to go then?”

Wynonna nodded. “Clear eyes, full bra, can’t lose.”

“Definitely don’t remember that in _Friday Night Lights_ ,” Nicole rolled her eyes. Realizing they were waiting on Wynonna, she nudged her in the direction of the front of the line. “Go on, kick some ass. And maybe a little extra for me while I’m still out of commission.”

The brunette pulled on her helmet and saluted her best friend, taking off toward her spot at the front of the line. Even before they reached the ice, she could hear the pumping of the music—the heavy guitar and bass rocking the arena and the fans only helping that along. She’d heard it enough times from the perspective of being _in_ the arena, but never once from ice level.

She got herself a running start as she jumped onto the ice, taking her first strides on the freshly cleaned surface. It felt almost blasphemous to say that this moment was more thrilling, more adrenaline-inducing than riding the mechanical bull at Pussy Willows, but it was true. It took her a moment to realize she was skating her lap all alone. Rookie tradition, of course—the solo lap in your first game. She smirked to herself as she rounded behind the net, looking up into the crowd, eyes landing on the management box, her sister beaming proudly as she sat near Dolls (and very pointedly as far away from Bunny as physically possible). In the box next to theirs, the one reserved for players not in the lineup, Nicole stood beside Bell and O’Connell, ringing the cowbell she could vaguely hear—the one Wynonna’d brought to Edmonton that first season. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. She was here, and she had made it.

She wasn’t sure she deserved it, but she sure as shit was going to prove everyone right for taking a chance on her. (Maybe even prove everyone who thought she’d never be anything more than a good-for-nothing lowlife wrong).

\---

Warmup came and went, the squad going back to the locker room for one last bit of preparation before puck drop while Champ drove the Zamboni across the sheet.

She wasn’t nervous, really. Of course she wasn’t. There just _may_ have been the faintest bit of butterflies in her stomach, a jittery shaking of her hands with each second they drew nearer to the game. Something about the idea of being something _real_ , outside of a lovable troublemaker, felt so foreign to her. But she was ready.

The lights. The stomping and thundering of the crowd. The music. Perry Crofte’s stupid voice introducing the names of her teammates one by one. Inching closer to the front of the line until…

_“At center, number twenty-seven, Wynonna Earp!”_

Taking her strides back onto the ice, she couldn’t help the smile that split across her face. She found herself sandwiched between Williams and Thomas as Champ and Robin rolled out the carpet, Chrissy Nedley strolling across to sing.

Wynonna would be the first to admit that she didn’t quite understand the necessity of playing the anthem before a game, but now that she was standing on the ice for it, there was no denying the added level of importance and intensity that it added to the event.

The anthem concluded and she took to the bench, sitting herself between her two linemates.

She’d snickered when Lonnie had written the lines on the board yesterday before practice. Wynonna had been alternating through lines throughout the preseason, the coaching staff trying to find the best line fit for her. Questioning Nedley’s sanity when she saw it, she caught a glimpse of the mischievous smirk belonging to Vic Powers.

 _72—27—11_.

(Otherwise known as _Finning—Earp—Powers)._

Waverly called it a “recipe for disaster” when she told her sister. Wynonna called saw it as more of a “recipe for fun”.

Nedley called their names out for a line change somewhere around five minutes into the period, the Outlaws playing physically and dominating the puck. The wingers on either side of her looked her in the eye, the three of them nodding simultaneously. Wynonna held both her fists out, doing the handshake they’d agreed on like they hadn’t just swiped it from _D2: The Mighty Ducks._ (She only wished she had a bandana to put on dramatically).

 _“Mac!”_ She called, swinging her leg over the boards and waiting for MacKinnon to come off the ice.

Once she did, something in her clicked, like a competitive edge kicking into the next gear. The puck was dumped into their offensive end, picked up by one of the Outlaw defenders to start their attack. Wynonna swiveled to skate backwards as the opposing offense attacked, staying with her mark and not giving her an inch of space to get the puck. When a scrum pinned the puck to the boards, Wynonna saw her chance, charging in and digging it out of the mess of sticks and skates and legs.

Her best option was to carry it out of the zone herself, take advantage of the open ice in front of her. Head up as she entered the neutral zone, she caught the defender fresh off a line change out of the corner of her eye. She managed to spin out of the way of the body check coming at her, sending her opponent into the boards.

“Missed me you stupid bitch,” she chirped at the defender who was getting to her feet and readjusting her helmet after throwing her body weight into the wall.

Unfortunately, her _brilliant_ escape move caused the puck to slide off her stick and her open ice advantage was gone. With the Outlaws recovering, Powers recovered her miscue and was left with no other option than to dump the puck into the offensive zone and go off for a line change.

 _Okay first shift_ , she thinks to herself, knowing it could be better.

Her next shift is when she gets to take her first faceoff as a pro. Not that she _ever_ bragged about it, but she was kinda the shit at faceoffs. Which was why it came as no surprise that she won it easily, using her backhand to push it toward the offensive blue line.

The Devils set up shop in the attacking zone, moving the puck around, trying to open a seam to get a shot off. Calgary’s defense was well-disciplined and worked well as a unit, denying the home team space to do anything dangerous. Wynonna found her way to the front of the net, getting herself tangled up with the defender there.

Annoyed with the woman breathing down her neck, she glanced quickly to see if the ref was watching before giving the bitch a quick elbow to the ribs and a healthy whack across her shins. It earned her a hard cross-check square in her back, knocking her to the ice. The referee’s hand flew straight into the air, Miller skating hard to the bench for the extra attacker. They skated 6-on-5 and used the man-up situation to finally get a good shooting lane. The shot hit Wynonna’s stick in front of the net, deflecting downward. The goalie was quick to react and smothered the rebound; the play stopped with the blowing of the referee’s whistle.

The Outlaw defender Wynonna was locked up and looked completely flabbergasted as the referee pointed at her and led her to the penalty box. The brunette sniggered smugly as she skated to the bench watching the bitch pathetically plead her case that Wynonna “hit her first” and that she “didn’t even do anything wrong.”

She expected some sort of comment of praise for drawing a penalty as she took a bottle from in front of her, but instead, Nedley tapped her on the shoulder and looked at her sternly.

“Watch yourself,” he said, “you got away with one there.”

She nodded, waiting until his attention was turned back to the ice before she rolled her eyes. _Maybe_ she had gotten away with a slashing penalty or an elbow, but someone had to bring the fight with the team trailing in the physicality department.

(Shae netted a one-timer set up by Mac and Hannah just as the power play expired. On the bench, Vic and Shan both gave Wynonna fist bumps for drawing the penalty that gave them the advantage in the first place).

\---

Midway through the third, the Devils found themselves locked up in a 1-1 game. Both teams looked like they were stuck in a rut, going through the motions instead of actively competing. There was a clear need for a spark to get the game going as they approached what Nedley called _Winnin’ Time._

Enter Wynonna Earp.

“This game’s a total snooze fest,” Finning said as she turned to her linemates. 

“Yeah,” Vic agreed. “Ol’ Willie’s fast asleep in his seat.”

“Willie’s passed out drunk at every hockey game he’s ever been to since 1975,” Wynonna rebutted, shrugging, “but this shit _is_ boring right now.”

“Right, someone needs to get something goin’.”

“Whaddya say we _make something happen?”_ Wynonna suggested mischievously, sharing a sly smirk with the two women.

When Nedley sent the trio back out onto the ice with just about seven minutes left, they jumped over the boards, immediately zipping around the surface. A play in the neutral zone was the perfect opportunity to do what they just talked about. Shan funneled the forward to the left wing boards, allowing Wynonna and Vic to come in stride together--Powers shoving the Outlaw player off of the puck, Wynonna bending over at the waist to lay a hip check that literally sent the woman flying across the ice.

The crowd erupted at the first big play in what felt like ages and Wynonna shared a gleeful _“Whoo!”_ at the play they made. Energized by the newly reengaged crowd, Finning laid a big hit on one of the Outlaws’ bigger defenders, so big that it knocked the woman to the ice and forced her to drop her stick. The crowd got to its feet, yelling and hollering for its home team, fully back into the game.

Hansen carried the puck into the offensive zone and dropped it off to a trailing Vic Powers as she crossed the blue line. The Devils caught the visitors on an odd-man situation, 3-on-2 with Wynonna shading her way over to the left faceoff circle, right around the hash marks. Powers found her with ease, the saucer pass landing perfectly on her stick. Wynonna didn’t even have to think twice, ripping her first shot of the game—of the season, of her career—right over the goalie’s shoulder, perfectly placed between the raised glove and her ear. A snipe if she’d ever seen one.

Sheathing her stick like it was a sword, she celebrated as the horn blew throughout the arena. Powers charged at her, jumping up to chest bump her. The thumping of _Tell That Devil_ added to the absolute rush she felt scoring her first professional goal; as she skated to the bench to high five her teammates, she looked up to see her sister jumping up and down and hugging (a very uncomfortable looking) Dolls, and Nicole standing and ringing the cowbell forcefully (not that anyone could hear it anyway).

Once the game finished, concluding with the Devils coming out victorious, Wynonna indulged in the spotlight of the interviewers buzzing to ask her about her game. The celebration carried on into the locker room, and as she finished her interviews, she made it just in time to burst through the door when _All I Do Is Win_ bumped through the massive speaker placed in the center of the room. The team tossed their jerseys into the bin, elated to kick the season off with a win. It took Nedley more than a second to settle them down enough to give them the “Way to pull the win out, but there’s a lot we need to work on” talk.

After post-game necessities were finished, Wynonna caught up with Nicole and Waverly in the lobby. She saw Nicole frown and hand Waverly a couple of bills just before she came into earshot, narrowing her eyes at the interaction. Nicole Haught losing a bet? Nicole Haught losing a bet to someone who wasn’t her? Wynonna very clearly needed to get to the bottom of that.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s this?” She asked, scandalized, snatching the cash from her sister’s hand. A $50 bet? That was her and Nicole’s thing. “Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Wynonna, give me that,” Waverly huffed, taking the money back. “You’re not the only one who can gamble, you know.”

“So you two made a bet?”

“Yeah, and?”

“What was it on?”

“You,” Nicole chimed in.

“What about me?” She asked, more intrigued than before.

“I bet Waverly fifty bucks that you’d get yourself suspended before you scored a goal,” the redhead told her plainly.

“After all we’ve been through,” she took her hand to her chest dramatically, feigning offense, “after all the time we spent together on the ice I’d figure you’d see that I’m a goal machine.”

“You’re also _Wynonna Earp._ ”

She pulled a face at Nicole, mocking her, but like _fair enough_ she supposed.

“Whatever, thank you babygirl,” she pulled her sister into a hug, “at least _someone_ believes in me.”

“I’m not spending any of this money to buy you booze,” Waverly said, giving her a stern look. Wynonna pouted. “You’ve got money from the team to do that now.”

\---

**CEWHL** **@CEWHL**

REAL LIFE BASH BROTHERS?—The Blue Devils’ checking line of Finning, Earp, and Powers combine for a league record combined 42 penalty minutes and 27 hits in Saturday night’s 3-2 loss in Victoria.

_9 OCT—9:35 PM PST_

_\---_

**PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

Just like great-great grandpappy, Wynonna Earp is the fastest draw in the West. Through four games, Earp leads the league in faceoff percentage (26-for-35, 74%) and has scored four goals on her only four shots this season.

_14 OCT—1:00 PM MST_

_\---_

**Stewie McCarthy** **@beefSTEW**

OLD TIME HOCKEY BABY!!! Never gonna stop watching these @bluedevilsCEWHL games if they keep on giving us big hits and better fights

_16 OCT—8:04 PM MST_

_\---_

**Bunny Loblaw** **@BLoblaw_54**

1-4 through 5 games ??? UNACCEPTABLE. Disgusted.

_16 OCT—11:59 PM MST_

_\---_

**Bunny Loblaw** **@BLoblaw_54**

Another HORRENDOUS showing for the team. Might just have to strap on some skates myself. Don’t be surprised to see BIG changes coming SOON. ANY TEAMS OPEN TO TRADES???

_17 OCT—2:16 AM MST_

_\---_

**Bunny Loblaw** **@BLoblaw_54**

SERIOUSLY willing to trade ANY of these SCRUBS for $75 and a bag of potato chips #sorrynotsorry

_17 OCT—3:27 AM MST_

\---

She lasts five whole games before she gets herself into real trouble. (Wynonna’d honestly surprised herself with that one—lasting longer than she thought she would).

Three days after their matchup with Sherbrooke, Wynonna found herself called into Nedley’s office. When she found her sister there, she knew she was in for quite the talking to.

“Sit down,” Nedley instructed without greeting her when she walked through the doorway.

“So, what’s the haps?”

“We need to talk to you,” Waverly said, still stern but not as gruff as Nedley had been.

Wynonna nodded, waiting for one of them to start.

“I’m pulling you off of the line with Powers and Finning,” the Sheriff addressed her bluntly.

“What? Why?” She asked, shellshocked. “We’ve been playing so well together.”

Nedley looked at her, the unamused look on his face singing his disagreement for him.

“You guys are taking too many penalties—boarding, roughing, interference penalties. You’re playing for the big hit instead of making the play on the puck and those penalties are costing us games.” He explained.

_Well, you knew what you were getting when you put the three of us together._

She guessed, supposed that maybe, _just maybe_ he’d been a little right about their play. Even though the Devils were leading the league in hits and physicality, they were dead last in Penalty Kill and had been issued more penalties than any other team this season so far. They’d been hanging around in games, but giving up goals late had been their Achilles heel, leading to losses in their last four games.

Nicole pulled her aside after their second loss and told her to play smarter, that she didn’t always have to run around out there like a bat out of hell, but she couldn’t really help it. Balls to the wall was kinda the only way she knew how to roll, and it had gotten her this far in life.

“Okay, so what, you’re separating all three of us?”

“No, just you.” _What the fuck?_ “Powers and Finning are troublemakers, yeah, but they worked just fine together.” 

“We’re having fun out there, isn’t that part of the game?” She offered.

“Part of the _job_ is also not actively costing the team games, Earp.”

“Okay, so you’re benching me?”

“No,” Nedley said flatly and then ran his hand over his mustache like he couldn’t believe what he was going to say next. “You’re moving up. Left wing on the first line.”

She choked on the air she was breathing in as he said it. Certainly she hadn’t heard him correctly.

“Okay, yeah, good one. Tease the rookie,” she said once she regained the ability to breathe. Nedley looked at her, not laughing. “You’re serious?”

She was more than confused. Removing her from her linemates felt like a punishment, but being moved up to the top line was the literal definition of a reward.

“Unfortunately I am,” Nedley sighed.

“What about Jenna?”

“She’s been struggling to connect with Saunders and Pressman. She’ll go down and play with Mac and Dani, and Jamie will center Powers and Finning.”

“Why move me up, not down?” She asked, still struggling to wrap her head around the promotion/punishment.

“Frankly, I’m hoping Shae and Corine will be able to rein you in,” Nedley said. Wynonna chuckled humorlessly. “I know Haught’s been trying to talk some sense into you, too.”

“She has.”

“This is a last shot, Wynonna. You get your act together and play like a hockey player and not like a goon, or I’ll have no choice but to sideline you indefinitely.”

She narrowed her eyes, not a huge fan of ultimatums. But, if it came down to reining it in or getting benched, she guessed she’d suck it up and figure it out.

“Yeah, okay, got it.” She looked over at Waverly as if remembering her presence. Was she here as a sister or as an Assistant GM?

“One more thing,” the brunette spoke.

“Which is?”

“You’re suspended for the next two games.”

“Why the fuck?” She burst out.

“Woah, _watch your mouth_ there, Earp,” Nedley admonished (as if he didn’t have an even dirtier mouth during his time in the NHL).

“Right, sorry. What the _actual, flying fuck_ am I suspended for?”

Waverly looked at her like she should know exactly why she was being handed this sentence. “Off the top of your head, can you think of _anything_ that may have happened last game that would warrant a suspension?”

\---

_The game against the Black Widows was the one she’d been looking forward to the most ever since she’d signed her contract. Even had it circled on her calendar in three differently colored pens. The fifth game of the season, on home ice, fire in her veins. (Rage that usually simply simmered just below her skin ready to boil over at the slightest provocation)._

_Everyone knew it, too. They knew what this game meant. It wasn’t necessarily the team they were playing, but rather who was on it. Queen of Mean, a whole ass demon as Wynonna far as was concerned, Jolene DiMoni._

_She hadn’t forgotten and she knew she never would. How could she forget the vicious attack on the ice that almost cost her best friend her career and her life?_

_Nicole almost didn’t make it to the game. She’d been pale, jumpy, seemingly on edge all morning. She didn’t have to say anything for Wynonna to know that the redhead was ashamed of her fear of the woman. Waverly had gotten permission to sit near her girlfriend in the player box for the game, offering to hold her hand through the entire thing._

_Wynonna sized Jolene up during warmups, the bitch looking every bit as devious as she had that night she hit Nicole. At one point, Jolene caught Wynonna’s eye and smirked at her, blowing her a smug, sassy kiss._

_“I’m gonna kill her,” she growled to Vic beside her. “I swear to god I’m gonna do it.”_

_“Say the word and I’ll back you up,” her linemate bumped her on the shoulder, ready to kick someone’s ass in the name of solidarity._

_By the time the game rolled around, she was more than amped to completely bulldoze that woman if she so much as looked at her the wrong way. Nobody fucked with Wynonna Earp’s family and got away with it._

_Wynonna wasn’t on the ice for Jolene’s first shift, but she seethed at the way the woman skated around with reckless abandon, crunching Jamie into the boards well after the play had moved elsewhere and skating away like nothing happened._

_It was early in the second period before Wynonna found herself matched up against the bitch herself. She’d had a sneaking suspicion that Nedley had been keeping her off the ice while Jolene was out there, knowing what was likely to go down if they were on at the same time. However, an icing call forced Wynonna, Shan, and Vic to stay out while Coach Clootie from the Black Widows sent Jolene to take the faceoff. As they settled over the faceoff dot, Jolene looked up at her and smirked again._

_“You’re the one that’s been talking big shit about how much you hate me, eh?” Jolene said._

_“You’re the bitch that tried to murder my best friend, eh?” She shot back._

_“You wanna hit me, don’t you?” She taunted._

_“It’s on the list.”_

_“You’re all talk, no action.”_

_“I’ll fucking kill you,” she growled, eyes on the arm of the referee, waiting for him to drop the puck in his hand._

_“I’d like to see you try,” Jolene smirked smugly, swiping the puck away as it was dropped._

_Wynonna followed the woman around, marking her, not letting her near the puck, clearly frustrating her. Tangled up in front of the net, Jolene shoved her roughly, knocking Wynonna slightly off balance. Catching herself before she fell, she steadied herself and came back with a forceful cross-check, breaking her stick across Jolene’s back._

_Not able to argue her innocence with her stick broken in pieces, Wynonna was sent to the penalty box to serve a two-minute cross-checking minor as a linesman brought her a new stick from the bench. She was forced to watch Jolene net a power play goal and fought the urge to clock her right then and there when the bitch fucking winked at her as she exited the penalty box._

_“Fucking stupid fucking bitch,” she grumbled under her breath as she slammed the bench door and plopped herself onto the seat._

_“A short temper never did nobody a bit of good,” Doc rested a hand on her shoulder from behind her. “Do not let her win. She ain’t worth it.”_

_With a minute left in the second, Wynonna found herself back out on the ice with Jolene’s line, the Devils possessing the puck in the attacking zone. Aware of exactly where she was, she raced Jolene to a puck deep in the right corner. In a measure of revenge, Wynonna laid a heavy (but clean) hit on the center, knocking her to the ice._

_“How’d’you like that one, bitch?” She taunted, catching a glimpse of Gus giving her a nod of approval from her seat on the other side._

_The pair traded a few more animosity-laced moments before the bad blood reached a boiling point._

_The Devils found themselves trailing 4-0 late in the third, morale low and tensions high for many of them. A puck flipped up on edge and deflected out of play over the glass, causing a stoppage in play and allowed Champ and a couple ice crew members to scrape some of the built-up snow off of the ice. Wynonna sat on the bench, staring down Jolene and wondering if she could make her face look angry enough to physically burn a hole through the nasty woman’s head._

_As if summoned by the devil himself, Jolene tauntingly skated by the Blue Devils bench on the way to her own._

_“Well I’d say we’re beating you down worse than what I did to that Haught bitch,” she said, shrugged, and then skated away nonchalantly. It was over the line, but she clearly knew that. It was probably why she’d said it in the first place._

_Not even wasting a second to think about what she was doing, Wynonna hopped up over the boards and skated over toward Jolene. Somewhere in the back of her consciousness she heard her teammates calling after her to come back to the bench, but she was seeing red and the only thing she could hear was the blood pumping in her ears. She removed her gloves, reached her hand out, tugged on Jolene’s shoulder, and spun her around roughly._

_Jolene almost looked like she was expecting it, if the smug smirk she wore was any indication. “Aww, did I say something to upse—”_

_Wynonna didn’t let her finish her sentence, winding up and socking her square in the jaw._

_“You fucking piece of shit,” she growled, landing another punch to Jolene’s jaw._

_Recovering from the initial shock, Jolene steadied herself on her feet and tried to swing. Well-versed in bar fight self-defense, Wynonna dodged the attempted punch. She used her opponent’s momentum against her, tearing off Jolene’s helmet and pulling on her jersey to land four, five, six quick body shots, the tugging just about pulling Jolene’s jersey up over her head._

_To her credit, Jolene worked her way out of a tough position by using her leg to kick Wynonna’s out from underneath her, causing both of them to crash to the ice, still throwing their hands around._

_“Man, you suck at this,” Jolene said, flipping their positions so she was on top and throwing punches, “Is everyone on this team as weak as you and your friend?”_

_“Fuck you,” she spat, dodging a punch and rolling them onto their side, trying to stand up. “You’re the weakest goddamn person in this building.”_

_The referees jumped in, trying to break them apart. They succeeded in getting the pair to their feet, both of them tugging angrily on each other’s equipment, jockeying for the upper hand. (Both jerseys had fallen casualty to the violence of the on-ice scrap)._

_“Not likely,” Jolene shouted over the shoulder of the referee holding her back, “considering how I just about killed the redhead. She’s lucky I didn’t get to finish the job.”_

_The one part of her restraint that was still intact snapped. Wynonna shoved the man blocking her path out of her way with Hulk-like ease, racing over to Jolene to grab her again. She threw her punches over the other referee who was doing his best to keep them apart, but found himself pushed out of the way just as easily as his partner._

_“I hope you rot in hell,” Wynonna growled loud enough for Jolene to hear over the right hook she landed across her cheekbone. “You no good, rotten,” she yelled, knocking them back onto the ice, connecting a few consecutive blows now, “motherfucking cu—”_

_She was about to land a finishing haymaker on the woman when she felt three people pulling her off of her opponent. Two of them held her arms back while the third stood in front of her trying to get through to her._

_“Wynonna, stop, it’s done,” the one blocking her path looked her dead in the eyes, pushing the four of them back toward the Devils bench and away from the altercation. "You did good." Coming back to her senses a bit, Shae became more in focus and her vision was less red; she registered Powers and Finning behind her as the ones holding her arms back and the roaring of the crowd, clearly loving the show._

_\---_

“Okay, so maybe that deserved a suspension,” she agreed, knowing leaving the bench was a big no-no. “But _two_ games?”

“Wynonna,” Waverly said, looking at her, non-verbally saying, _“Really?”_

She bit back her smirk, looking at the bruises on her knuckles. “Whatever, it was definitely worth it.”

(At the very least, it earned her a nod and a short flash—so quick you’d miss it if you blinked—of a smile from Nedley).


	27. Five Hundred Seventy Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get spicy (maybe?, idk)

_Waverly cheered from her seat in between the benches, watching the Devils fighting hard in their game against Brandon. MacKinnon dug around for the puck that was being pinned up against the wall, pulling it out of the scrum and flipping it up out of the zone. Jamie was able to touch it to save the icing call, but wound up being called for offsides instead._

_The ensuing faceoff came in the neutral zone, and Waverly had a great feeling the Devils would gain possession. Nedley had sent out the Jenna—Nicole—Shae line for a reason, of course._

_Waverly readied herself to mark down the result as the puck was dropped. Nicole was a split second too slow, and the Bobcats’ center won it back to her defenseman. The visitors wasted no time in setting up their offensive attack once they gained entry to the zone._

_The Bobcats moved the puck crisply, looking to open up seams in the Blue Devils’ defense, but they all held their zones and did what they needed to, making it hard for their opponents to get chances. Eventually, the offense was left with no choice but to force a shot in hopes of getting a bounce or opening something up on a rebound, causing a deflection into the right corner boards._

_Nicole took off in a foot race with the forward she was matched up against, and Waverly had an uneasy feeling of déjà vu as she watched her girlfriend barrel into the corner. When she saw the hit becoming imminent, she averted her eyes, but couldn’t escape the sound of bodies colliding with an immovable object. Whistles blew and chaos followed, but Waverly couldn’t tear her eyes off of Nicole lying practically facedown in the corner, stiff as a board._

_Waverly opened a door inside her box that she didn’t even know was there and sprinted onto the ice. She needed to make sure Nicole was okay. Nicole had to be okay. Just as she reached her girlfriend, however, she stumbled (stupid ice), and when she regained her bearings, she found herself blinded by lights somewhere that was most definitely not the rink._

_The smell of antiseptic stung at her nostrils and the clinical sights and sounds hit her like a truck._

_How the hell did she end up at the hospital?_

_She spotted Wynonna, holding an ice pack to her face, talking to a police officer while a young doctor stitched up a cut on her cheek. Apparently she had found her way to the ice and kicked the shit out of whoever hit Nicole._

_Wait, Nicole. Where was she? Was she okay?_

_She jogged over to where her sister was, hoping to find an answer. Waverly was about to open her mouth to ask the question when a doctor burst through the door, looking for the Earps._

_“Where is she? How’s Nicole?” Waverly asked frantically._

_“Waverly,” the doctor said, their voice firm, sounding like not great news. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”_

_“Tell me what,” she felt her chest tighten and her stomach turn._

_“Nicole…her injuries were too severe, we did everything we could, but,” they paused, “Nicole is dead.”_

Waverly bolted upright in bed, clutching one of the many blankets to her chest, trying to get a hold of her breathing and calm her racing heart.

 _A nightmare_ , she thought through the fog. _Just a nightmare, right?_

She looked around, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room looking for the one thing that would confirm the one coherent thought in her racing mind.

When she could finally see, she looked over to find Nicole Haught, sleeping soundly, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly and a few strands of hair straying into her face. Waverly watched and listened to the even breathing beside her; reached out to feel her girlfriend’s warmth.

She was _okay._ It was just a bad dream.

Waverly laid back down, knowing it would be next to impossible to get back to sleep, wrapping her arms around the redhead to keep her close. Nicole hummed contentedly in her sleep and burrowed her head into the brunette’s chest, while Waverly used the contact and the reassurance to calm herself down.

(She hadn’t had any nightmares about the incident since Nicole had woken up relatively okay, so what the hell did it mean to having one so long after?)

\---

She found that she did eventually get back to sleep, because when she awoke, a few rays of sun had started to filter through the curtains. She rolled over, still slightly frazzled from waking up in the middle of the night, and reached an arm across the bed hoping to feel Nicole there.

Instead, the redhead’s side is empty, and the sheets there are cold. Waverly sits upright and frowns. Had she imagined Nicole there last night? Was she actually hurt and in the hospital? Had it not been a dream at all? Had Nicole _actually_ died?

She pulled on the hoodie hanging at the foot of the bed and slipped on a pair of socks before exiting the room, needing to find answers. As she padded down the stairs, the questions continued to fly around her mind and only stopped when she heard voices from the kitchen.

“Wynonna, I swear to god,” one of them came, most likely through gritted teeth, “leave them alone.”

(Waverly released a huge sigh of relief, knowing her mind hadn’t tricked her last night). 

“Hey, if they’re on the table, they’re fair game, everyone knows that.”

“Jesus, I mean it, Earp, they’re not _for you,”_ Waverly turned into the doorway in time to see Wynonna reach for, and take a bite of, one of the waffles stacked up neatly on a plate on the kitchen table.

“Damn, Haught, who knew you were such a good chef?” Wynonna said through a mouthful of waffle, her smug look growing scandalized as Nicole reached out smack it from her hand and on the floor. _“How dare you!?”_

“I made this breakfast for me and Waverly, you can fend for yourself.” Nicole said pointedly, placing the plate of remaining waffles onto a tray with strawberries, yogurt with granola, some orange juice and a bottle of champagne. (Topped off with a big vase of the prettiest bouquet of flowers Waverly had ever seen).

About to pick up the tray, the redhead caught sight of Waverly in the kitchen doorway and she smiled softly, though Waverly picked up a sense of disappointment in her look as well. “Aw man, it was supposed to be a surprise—breakfast in bed.”

“Oh, I can always go back up to bed,” she suggested with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

“If it’s going to lead to you doing nasty things to my sister in bed, I’m gonna take all your waffles.” Wynonna interrupts, already reaching to steal another one.

“Not happening,” Nicole swatted at her hand in warning, “now scram.”

Wynonna picked a strawberry from the bowl with a mischievous smile before scurrying away. Nicole rolled her eyes at the older brunette, but motioned for Waverly to join her at the kitchen table, pulling out her seat for her.

“Well, don’t you know how to make a girl feel special first thing on a Monday morning?” Waverly cooed, watching Nicole pour champagne into her flute of orange juice.

“Not just any Monday morning,” she replied when she finally took her seat, reaching over to grab Waverly’s hand. “The Monday morning that happens to be our second anniversary.”

She knew that, obviously, and her heart soared at hearing the words aloud. Two whole years of loving the gorgeous redhead in front of her. She’d ask where the time had gone, but she knew. God did she know. Their relationship had been tested in one of the fiercest ways right from its early onset, and things hadn’t gotten much easier. Nicole’s rehab, Waverly’s promotion, the reappearance of Hannah, the _break._ Their first anniversary had been ruined—the Devils were out of town in on an East Coast road trip, and it had been around the time the pair reached their disconnect at Hannah’s joining of the team. So while Waverly spent their special day taking phone calls and controlling Bunny Loblaw, Nicole spent most of the night in bed with her muscles and joints aching from a particularly strenuous rehab session. But here they were, still going strong, both of them happy as ever. (If only she could shake the images from her nightmare, today might actually be a perfect day).

“Oh, so that’s what today is?” Waverly smiled coyly. “Here I am thinking you pulled out all the stops to cure a bad case of the Mondays.”

“Well, yeah, that too,” Nicole says as she puts the bottle back down on the table.

“What, you’re not mimosa-ing?” Waverly wonders aloud, “Is that a word? _Mimosa-ing?”_

“Well, I’m not sure about that, _but_ considering drinking on game days is generally frowned upon, I don’t think I should be doing it with the Assistant GM.”

“Pick a lane there, Haught,” she teased, “am I your boss or your lover?”

“Under the right circumstances, on the right nights, you’d be both.”

(She swears she hears Wynonna gag from upstairs).

“When you talk like that, it makes me question why I date you.”

“Well, if you’ve got all these questions, maybe I _will_ let Wynonna take the food.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she gasped, pulling her plate closer to herself.

Nicole smirked, taunting her girlfriend. “Don’t test me.”

“I hate you,” Waverly said, but had no truth to it.

“That’s quite unfortunate considering how much I’m in love with you.” Nicole popped a strawberry into her mouth and winked.

“I can’t believe I’m in love with such a cocky idiot,” she sighed dreamily, taking a sip from her glass. “God, _two_ whole years, huh?”

“Best two years of my entire life,” the redhead fixed her with a starstruck gaze, “I wouldn’t change any of it for the world.”

“None of it?” She asked, knowing there’d been a lot of trials and tribulations over that period.

“Not a thing,” Nicole confirmed, “because _every. Single. One_ of those moments—good, bad or indifferent—led me here, to this moment, with the most beautiful, most perfect human being in the whole wide world.”

“You are,” her words come slowly, deliberately, so Nicole knows she means everything she is about to say, “the most incredible thing to ever happen to me, Nicole Haught.”

“Well, I don’t know about all that,” the redhead deflected. Waverly hated when Nicole did that, and she did it all too often for her liking; her girlfriend had a nasty habit of not believing she deserved the praise she got, “but I do know that you are _extraordinary_ , Waverly Earp.”

\---

“Earp!” Waverly heard her name shouted across the hallway in the shrill tone that told her today wasn’t going to be an easy one. “Waverly Earp! Come here—why are you ignoring me?”

“I’m not ignoring you, Bunny,” she answered calmly.

“Oh, well,” the woman huffed and turned up her nose, “I have something very important to tell you.”

Waverly wasn’t necessarily religious but, _oh dear sweet lord god help her._

“What can I do for you?” The brunette asked, putting on her best professional smile.

“It appears that I have been locked out of my Twitter account,” the owner informed like it was the most preposterous thing in the world.

“Mhm,” she nodded, playing like she hadn’t changed the password to the account after the latest run of games. The woman was so very close to devolving into insanity and with the Devils struggling to win games as of late, Waverly and Dolls feared that she was on the verge of tweeting something that would inevitably plunge the team into scandal. That was the absolute last distraction they needed right now as they tried to figure out how to get back to winning ways, and Waverly resolved to just shut the whole thing down before it came down to that. “Let me see what I can do about that.”

Bunny handed her her phone and Waverly wasted no time in deleting the app from the device. It’s better that way. She fiddles around with the screen for a minute or so before she hands the phone back to its owner.

“Gee, Bunny, I don’t know what to say,” she feigned being completely lost, “I think Twitter just might be broken. They just don’t build apps like they used to.”

“They sure don’t. Stupid, rotten, good-for-nothing kids,” Bunny agreed. “How the hell am I supposed to tell the world all of my brilliant thoughts, now?”

Waverly’s not stupid. She knows that simply changing the password or deleting an app is going to silence Bunny, so she thinks on her feet. (And to the TV she’d been watching last night).

“You know, the audience you’re looking for doesn’t use any of these silly apps anyway,” Waverly told her like it was something the woman should’ve known all along.

“They’re not?”

“No, but I can show you what they _are_ using.”

The owner, whose only character trait seemed to be unhinged narcissism, perked her head up at that. Waverly led her down the hallway that led to Bunny’s office and opened a word document. She hid the screen from the woman for just a moment while she crafted a jazzy-looking header and an official looking “website” at the top.

“Here you go, Bunny, if you wanna reach the type of people who are dying to hear what you have to say,” Waverly bit back her laughter, “this is the place to do it.”

“ _www.bunnysworld.gov/bunnysthoughts_ ?” The woman asked, intrigued. “What is this?”

“It’s your own personal blog. They’re all the rage right now,” she told her, pointing to the screen. “And look! You’ve already got four and a half million followers.” (A fake followers tab for a sham blog _did_ deserve a hilariously implausible follower count).

“I always knew people were hanging on my every word,” Bunny straightened herself up with an air of importance, practically shoving Waverly out of the seat, “now move so I can give the people what they want.”

Waverly stood and excused herself from the room. As if Bunny could be bothered to notice, too busy with her newfound _fame_ and typing away furiously adding words to the document. She collided with Dolls as she exited the office and he looked at her with an almost playful curiosity about the scenario.

“Do I even dare ask what crazy nonsense landed you in Bunny’s office now?” He released the closest thing to an amused chuckle he was capable of.

“Actually, I think you might like this one. I think I might’ve actually saved us some sanity.”

“Oh do tell.”

“She figured out I changed her Twitter password and locked her out,” she explained, “so I deleted the app from her phone and created a phony blog in a word document. I told her everyone who wanted to read her thoughts would be waiting. She thinks she’s famous.”

Dolls peeked into the office, seeing the woman clicking away. “Brilliant. How’d you come up with that one?”

“I stole it from an episode of _The Office_.”

“Nice work,” he praised. “Hey, you up to talk to Vance before the game tonight?”

She frowned slightly. _Not really._ She wasn’t really in any sort of mood to deal with the guy who’d been doing nothing but slandering the team all season. “This doesn’t sound like I have a choice.”

“You do, but it’s either talk to that asshole or blow off the appearance and give him free reign to talk whatever smack we both know he will.”

“Fine,” she figured it best to bite the bullet, “when is it?”

“Now.”

_Perfect._

“Where is he?”

“Media room, slot three,” Dolls told her. As she walked away, not really looking forward to the interaction, Dolls added a “Thanks, Earp. You’re a lifesaver”, that all but confirmed that _he_ was supposed to talk to the media man, but pawned it off onto her.

She rolled her eyes as she made her way to the media room. She straightened out her blazer and tightened her ponytail. On the off chance this was going to be recorded and broadcasted on the network, she was at least going to look put together.

Waverly spotted the man almost instantly; everyone had come very familiar with the man since he decided to start running his mouth about the team’s play and their legitimacy as a contender. He stood there in his assigned spot, fiddling with his phone—probably already writing a scathing article or a series of tweets—when she approached him, eager to get this over with.

“Vance Kerr?” She asked even though he hardly needed to introduce himself. He perked his head up and closed whatever he was writing to smile and extend his hand. Waverly accepted the shake, “Dolls tells me you’ve got some questions pregame?”

“Yes ma’am. X should know by now that I’m _full_ of questions.”

(She knew for a fact that Dolls would _not_ be appreciative of this guy calling him _X.)_

“Alright, let’s get started then, shall we?” She proposed professionally.

Thankfully there had been no cameras, but he did open the recording app on his phone to keep notes on the pregame talk.

“Just a couple questions today, I promise.”

“Go ahead and shoot ‘em at me then.”

“Okay, first one,” he doesn’t even stop to look at the notes he’d been carrying with him. “It’s been no secret that the team has struggled down the stretch, what can you say about their play of late?”

“Well, obviously it hasn’t been ideal. Everyone wants to play winning hockey, but there’s gonna be a rough patch from time to time. Mental toughness is going to be key if we wanna turn the ship around.”

Vance nodded, but looked rather unpleased not to have provoked a better reaction.

“Any insights into why the team might be struggling so badly? Was the record season two years ago a fluke?”

That was the reporter’s calling card lately. It was his ticket to more screen time—ranting and raving about how this team had never been a legitimate threat. (That _“Even a broke clock is right twice a day”;_ which she wasn’t even sure he was using the right way).

“Vance, you’ve been around this game long enough to know that success in this league isn’t easy to come by. This is a good squad and a turnaround is around the corner,” she fed him the lines that Dolls had crafted ever since the reporter decided to go on this crusade against the Blue Devils.

Vance nodded, looking just as disappointed at this response as he had been for the previous one.

“Alright, I’ll leave you with one last question,” he said. “There have been rumors circulating around the league that Nicole Haught may be making her return to the ice this week. Any chance that happens tonight?”

“Well, Nicole is close to ready to go,” Waverly answered. She’d been allowed to answer questions like these, but wasn’t supposed to reveal any firm details. “But, that final decision’s gotta come from the training staff and from Sheriff Nedley.”

\---

Waverly went about the rest of her pregame business, checking everything off of the daily lists she got from Dolls. Today’s game was a special one, so the lineup card from Nedley would wait until right before warmups.

One of the last things on that list was to make sure Bunny wasn’t out somewhere unattended creating more drama for the team. She’d turned down the hallway the sound of footsteps practically sprinting toward her, right before a flash of black striped with baby blue crashed into her. Naturally, it was Wynonna.

“What are you running around down here for?” She said from where she laid on the ground.

“Oh shit, my bad babygirl,” Wynonna held out her hand to help her sister up. “I’m looking for Robin.”

Waverly smoothed out her jacket and regained her balance, looking Wynonna up and down at her odd search. What the hell did she need Robin for fifteen minutes before warmups.

“He’s in the sound booth getting ready for the game, why?” She added skeptically, like she knew the brunette was up to something.

“I’ve got a _special request_ for him tonight,” Wynonna said mischievously and now Waverly knew she’d been up to something.

“Any chance you’d tell me what that is?”

“Waverly, you’ve known me for 23 years,” she snickered, “you know I won’t.”

“Wynonna, it’s almost time for warmups—Sheriff’s gonna be going into the locker room any minute now.”

“Correct,” her sister nodded her affirmation, “so if you could get out of my way, I can do what I need to and make it back in time.”

Waverly pinched the bridge of her nose, but moved out of the way, “Make it quick.”

Wynonna jogged off in the music director’s direction, while Waverly continued on with her pregame check on Bunny, with the added worry of however her sister was most definitely bothering poor Robin right about now. She paused in front of Bunny’s door—the nameplate on it bedazzled with rhinestones and embellished with an actual, literal spotlight over it—debating whether or not to knock and subject herself to more insanity. Instead, Waverly simply peeked in through the window, almost grateful to find the woman still furiously typing away. She wondered if she’d been at it nonstop since Waverly had set it up for her, and then shuddered at the thought of what that word document looked like.

(Waverly let the woman be, seeing as she was actually quiet and corralled for once. She’d let Dolls handle the job of prying her away from her new toy to go up and watch the game).

A reminder chimed from her phone and Waverly practically skipped the entire way down to her office. It was almost game time, and more than that, she and the team had a special surprise for a special someone. She grabbed what she was looking for off of her desk and then skipped all the way down past Nedley’s office and only stopped when she reached the coach and his assistants at the locker room door.

“You got it?” He asked as he handed her a copy of his lineup, keeping one for himself.

(She could tell he was trying not to cringe at the sound of _Barbie Girl_ by Aqua being blasted in the room on the other side of the door, but she found it hilarious. The team at least _sounded_ like they were ready to go).

“Mhm,” she nodded excitedly. This was a long time coming, and Waverly was ecstatic to be a part of it. When the decision had been made official, Nedley had been the one to suggest Waverly be there for the announcement.

“Alright then,” he gave a nod and a smile, “let’s see if they’re ready then.”

The Sheriff knocked three times on the door and waited only a second before Shae Pressman responded, the music in the locker room being cut immediately. The captain moved out of the way of the door, allowing them access to the rest of the team. Inside, the squad sat attentively in their stalls, waiting for what their coach would have to say.

Waverly sighed in relief when she saw that her sister had made it back to the room in time, but cracked a wide smile when she made eye contact with Nicole. The redhead sat in the stall, completely geared up, but looking confused and worried at the fact she was the only one on the team who didn’t have a jersey.

“Ladies, it’s no secret we haven’t been getting the results we all wanted,” Nedley said gruffly, “but today’s a new game. You all can make the choice to be a completely different team starting tonight; the team you all know you can be.” The team nodded along to the words of their coach. “Make smart decisions, don’t take stupid penalties, and for Christ’s sake, have each other’s backs out there.”

Nedley turned to Waverly and gave her the look. Behind her back, she gripped the object from her office a bit tighter, just about ready to burst from excitement. Turning back to the team, Nedley called Shae up to the front of the room and handed her a lineup card. He stepped aside to give the captain the center of attention.

“Alright gang, starters on deck,” Shae called in a voice ready to rile everyone up, the drumroll of foot stomping and banging on the locker stalls starting up. “We’re gonna start from the back today—in between the pipes, we’ve got Thriller Miller! We’ve got the best of both worlds out on our blue line with Hannah Montana and Lil’ Miss Georgia Peach,” the captain called, earning a laugh from the D-pair of Hastings and Thomas. “Yours truly is on the right side, and the world’s biggest pain in the ass is on the left—the one and thankfully only, Wynonna Earp!” Wynonna stood to take a bow, earning playful eye rolls from many of her nearby teammates. “And in the middle, a moment I think we can all say we’ve been waiting for, making her return to the ice, Big Red herself— _Nicole Haught!_ ”

From beside Wynonna, Nicole smiled brightly as the team cheered and patted her on the back. Still jerseyless, she looked around to anyone who might be able to solve her issue. Waverly’s heart swelled with pride at what would be coming next.

“Uh, thanks guys, really,” Nicole said awkwardly, “but I don’t think I can play without a jersey.”

Nedley gave a chuckle. “Settle down Haught, we’re gettin’ to that.”

He nodded now to Wynonna, who stood up in her stall to talk.

“Nicole Haught, you uptight, goody-two-shoes, hoity-toity, rule followi—”

“—Wynonna,” Nedley interrupted, instructing her to get to her point.

The redhead frowned in confusion.

“You, you glorious ginger bitch, have been a backbone for this team, even when no one asked you to. You had your own shit going on, and you had every right to take a look at this team and completely ignore it for the sake of dealing with your own issues. But once you got yourself back on your feet, you took it upon yourself to have everyone’s back, even when you couldn’t play,” Wynonna never broke eye contact with the redhead, and the team agreed with everything the woman had to say. “You’ve fired everyone up before games. You’ve been supportive when things have gotten tough. Hell, you’ve even managed to get me to get my shit together,” Nicole raised a questioning eyebrow before Wynonna conceded, _“mostly._ You have worked harder than any single one of us to get to this day, and your perseverance is inspiring. You’re the toughest fucking bitch I know, even if you are a dorky fucking idiot most of the time, and I think I speak on behalf of everyone on this team when I say that you deserve this.”

The redhead looked at Wynonna, and then up at Nedley and around the room at the faces of her teammates, perplexed and definitely a little lost. Waverly stepped out from beside the head coach and motioned for her girlfriend to come to the front of the room.

The shorter brunette produced a black jersey with a baby blue stripe across the middle (reminiscent of the style of a Montreal Canadiens jersey), and handed it to Nicole. The redhead ran her fingers across the stitching breathlessly, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She looked up, wide-eyed, at Waverly as if she were questioning what was going on.

“Put it on,” she nudged her disbelieving girlfriend.

Nicole pulled the sweater over her head and over her protective equipment, straightening it out and looking down at the Blue Devil emblazoned in the center. She turned around to show the team, all of them bursting into cheers and whistles as she showed them what was so unbelievable to her—a large white capital letter _‘A’_ just underneath her left shoulder.

“When Wilson retired,” Nedley spoke up, mostly to the redhead, “there was a vacancy. A leadership role needed to be filled. I held off on handing it out, waiting to see who would step up, be a presence in the locker room. I should’ve know you’d be a voice, but I will say I was pleasantly surprised that it came despite you not being able to be on the ice with your teammates.” The coach put a hand firmly on Nicole’s shoulder, like a mentor does before they’re about to say something important. “Now I wish I could take all the credit for the decision, but your captain over there,” he nodded to Shae, “suggested we take it to a vote to fill the alternate captain slot.”

“It was unanimous,” The woman smiled.

Waverly could tell Nicole was fighting back tears, like she still couldn’t believe any of this was real, that any of this was actually happening.

“It’s for all your hard work, so don’t go slacking now,” Nedley coached, “but you’ve earned this, Haught. I’m proud of you. We’re all proud of you.”

Nedley pulled her in for a quick embrace, and muttered a few words to the redhead that Waverly couldn’t quite make out. She knew it was something meaningful; those two had a bond that went beyond just coach and player. Once the moment had passed, Nicole moved to return to her seat, when she was cut off by voices.

“Speech! Speech!” Powers and Finning called, cupping their hands over their mouths as they yelled. The rest of the team joined in, and Nicole could do little to refuse it.

“I uh,” Nicole scratched at her head, her hair growing back out long enough to put into a braid again. “Wow,” she looked down still in shock at being bestowed with such an honor. “I’m sorry I don’t have much to say, I guess I’m not sure I deserve this—”

“—Boo!” Most of the team called, a series of “Shut the fuck up”s and “Of course you do”s followed.

“Well, thank you guys. You know, I never thought I’d get back here, to do this thing I love so much with all of you, so to know that this is what you guys think of me,” she looked down a the _‘A’_ for what had to be the hundredth time already, “I know for a fact that I am the luckiest girl in the world.” The team cheered and hollered. “Alright, enough of that. We’ve got a game to win, yeah? Let’s fucking give it our all then.”

The team gathered for their cheer and grabbed their equipment, ready to head out to the ice. Nicole hesitated in going to her locker, finding Waverly first.

“You were behind the surprise, right? Because I know for a fact these things usually happen in Nedley’s office.”

“I may have been,” Waverly smiled coyly. “When Doc told Dolls and I that you’d be ready to go on _November 16 th_, I knew that it’d be the perfect day to do this.”

“I must say, this is the greatest anniversary present I could’ve ever gotten.”

“Always the best for my best baby,” she stepped up on her tippy toes to place a quick kiss on Nicole’s lips, the skates adding a couple more inches to the already existing height difference between her and her girlfriend. “Now, go out there, have fun and please for the love of god be safe.”

“Of course,” Nicole smiled as Waverly _booped_ her on the nose.

\---

 **Vance Kerr** **@VKerr_CEWHLN**

Will the Blue Devils’ woes continue? A 7-11 record in Purgatory is just another on the growing list of proofs that their trailblazing season two years ago was little more than a fluke. Management remains vague, and maybe overly optimistic. IMHO it’s time to make a big move if the Devils want a chance at turning things around.

_16 Nov—4:07 PM MST_

_\---_

**PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

BACK IN BLACK—The Devils take to the ice for the first time in their new “blackout” alternate jerseys as Nicole Haught returns for her first game in 576 days.

_16 Nov—6:53 PM MST_

_\---_

**CEWHL** **@CEWHL**

Video: Nicole Haught’s solo lap in warmups—a welcomed sight for the star’s return after 18 months. (📽: IG/bluedevilsCEWHL).

_16 Nov—7:01 PM MST_

_\---_

**CEWHL** **@CEWHL**

‘A’-Okay!—Purgatory fans welcomed Nicole Haught back to the ice with a new addition to her jersey, joining captain Shae Pressman and alternate captain Corine Saunders as the locker room and on-ice leadership of Randy Nedley’s squad.

_16 Nov—7:12 PM MST_

\---

 **PURGATORY BLUE DEVILS** **@bluedevilsCEWHL**

Puck drop!

Starting lineups— @bobcatsCEWHL: Clanton-Redmayne-Simms, Griffin-Jackson, Brown

DEVILS: Earp-Haught-Pressman, Hastings-Thomas, Miller

_16 Nov—7:29 PM MST_

_\---_

To say she was pretty much a blubbering mess would be an understatement. For all of the trouble and the pain and hardships she’d had to watch Nicole suffer through, it was nothing compared to the pride that swelled in her chest at the sight of her girlfriend back out there, doing what she loved. It was a moment, eighteen months, three weeks, and four days in the making, and it was finally here. She welcomed anyone to talk shit about her; she didn’t care, it was an emotional moment and she’d shamelessly show every single one of them.

Waverly clocked the tears Nicole was choking back as the screen showed a short welcome back video, waving to the crowd from where she stood on the ice. Nicole deserved every second of the praise and glory and attention she was getting tonight.

Something about seeing her girlfriend playing with her sister seemed so foreign to her, like she couldn’t believe this was her life now, but she wasn’t complaining. Nicole’s first shift was energetic, though Waverly could see the rust and apprehension on the redhead’s face. She’d disclosed that she was still getting used to skating in full equipment with her knee and ankle braces, so Waverly imagined that was playing a big part in it.

Wynonna, still a loose cannon, had mellowed some since being switched to play with Shae. She still took bad penalties, usually out of frustration, but had learned to pick and choose her spots a bit better. There was an immediate chemistry in her play with Nicole that was evident, though of you told her two years ago that Wynonna and Nicole would get along the way they do, Waverly would’ve laughed in your face.

Nicole got a chance halfway through the second period and Waverly couldn’t help the way she stood and hung onto Dolls’ jacket in anticipation. The man looked at her strangely, though if he was annoyed, he kept it to himself. Nicole’s shot rang the post and careened out of play, the redhead throwing her head back, looking up at the sky, wondering how she missed her chance.

Waverly continued to cheer from her seat beside Dolls, watching the Devils fighting hard in their game against Brandon. As the game rolled into the third period still locked in a scoreless draw, MacKinnon dug around for the puck that was being pinned up against the wall, pulling it out of the scrum and flipping it up out of the zone. Jamie was able to touch it to save the icing call, but wound up being called for offsides instead.

The ensuing faceoff came in the neutral zone, and Waverly had a great feeling the Devils would gain possession. Nedley had sent out the Wynonna—Nicole—Shae line for a reason, of course. One of the areas the Devils struggled in with the absence of Nicole and the loss of Wilson was at the faceoff dot. Nicole’s return had already paid dividends, the Devils holding a sizeable advantage in that department.

Waverly could all but count the draw as a victory for her girlfriend, yet Nicole was a split second too slow, and the Bobcats’ center won it back to her defenseman. The visitors wasted no time in setting up their offensive attack once they gained entry to the zone.

The Bobcats moved the puck crisply, looking to open up seams in the Blue Devils’ defense, but they all held their zones and did what they needed to, making it hard for their opponents to get chances. Eventually, the offense was left with no choice but to force a shot in hopes of getting a bounce or opening something up on a rebound, causing a deflection into the right corner boards.

Nicole took off in a foot race with the forward she was matched up against, and Waverly had an uneasy feeling of déjà vu as she watched her girlfriend barrel into the corner. Not the same corner from the incident, but it may as well have been. She could feel the sense of dread from her nightmare creeping in on her as the scene unfolded, a big hit from Cleo Clanton becoming increasingly imminent. She grabbed onto Dolls’ arm with white knuckles, unable to register if she was hurting him, hoping her dream hadn’t actually been a premonition.

As if sensing the hit, Nicole swerved away from the woman coming in hot, sending the opposing forward crashing into the corner. Waverly gasped, partially thinking that this may have been the first time Nicole actually successfully evaded a hit. Maybe she was making strides in being a smarter player after all. The redhead escaped the corner and started to headman the puck up ice toward their attacking zone. Unfortunately, the puck flipped up on edge, causing Nicole to hesitate for a second to regain possession, leaving her in line for an open-ice collision that knocked her off her skates.

Waverly held her breath while she waited for Nicole to climb back up to her feet. Like she knew Waverly was watching intently to make sure she was okay, Nicole pushed herself up to a knee, readjusted her helmet and smiled at her girlfriend with a disbelieving shake of her head. _Baby steps_ , she supposed.

Nicole jumped back into the play, Wynonna holding the puck along the half-wall. Because of her delayed entrance, the Bobcats were caught off guard by the redhead barreling down the center of the zone. Wynonna laid a saucer pass onto Nicole’s stick, which she settled with ease and quickly toe dragged the puck around the defender’s poke check. Beating the defender cleanly, Waverly watched her girlfriend snap the puck over the goaltender’s shoulder, popping the water bottle out of its holder as the top of the net bulged with the scoring of her goal.

Openly sobbing now, Waverly jumped to her feet, pulling Dolls along with her as she bounced on her toes and tugged at his jacket. Not a single bit of her excitement, pride, or adoration for her girlfriend could be contained in that moment, and apparently it was contagious because Dolls actually vocally cheered in celebration.

The arena erupted, not just at the skilled play, but at how important they knew this goal was. The players on the ice mobbed Nicole, who couldn’t contain her own excitement. Over the noise Waverly heard something that was _definitely_ not the team’s normal goal song.

 _“I get knocked down, but I get up again_ ; _You are never gonna keep me down; I get knocked down, but I get up again—”_

She rolled her eyes, catching the proud smirk on her sister’s face. So _this_ was the important, pressing matter that she needed to bother Robin for. Nicole was mobbed again by the rest of the bench as she skated by for fist bumps, but her eyes were locked solely on Waverly, patting her right hand over her heart before pointing at the brunette. Even from the distance, she could read her lips— _I Love You._

\---

 **PURGATORY SPORTS REPORT** **@JeremyC_PG**

Nicole Haught wastes no time in her return to the ice, potting the game winner in her first game back with the Devils, propelling them to a 1-0 victory over @bobcatsCEWHL

_16 Nov—9:52 PM MST_

_\---_

**SportsCentre** **@SportsCentre**

#TOP10—Top play of the night comes from the @CEWHL, Nicole Haught of @bluedevilsCEWHL takes the sweet feed from Wynonna Earp and executes a slick toe drag before popping the bottle to win in her first game back from a devastating injury.

_17 Nov—1:01 AM EST_

\---

They spent an inordinate amount of time talking to the media after the game, practically every outlet wanting to get a piece or a quote from the returning star. It was attention she deserved after all the work she put in to get back, and Waverly was sure to mention it in the interviews she was saddled with.

By the time they returned to the homestead, Waverly wanted little else than to get out of her pantsuit and cuddle up to the woman who had made her so emotional all day. For most couples, an anniversary would mean a night out with a romantic dinner, but Waverly couldn’t imagine anything she would’ve rather been doing on this night than what had transpired. She didn’t need a big fancy dinner or an expensive gift to know how much Nicole loved her. And, she knew Nicole wasn’t the type of girl to expect big fancy gifts to know Waverly loved her, deciding the jersey surprise was the best way to do so. It was also the only gift she’d give Nicole that the redhead wouldn’t try to refuse or say _“You didn’t have to, really”_ to.

Nicole had beaten her upstairs to her room—essentially _their_ room—so Waverly had been plenty caught off guard when she opened the door to be wrapped up in strong arms, enveloped by the scent of vanilla that she loved so much. The room was dark, the only light source coming from the small bedside lamp that was much dimmer than it once had been.

“Well hello there,” she breathed, tilting her neck to allow Nicole access to the spot just below her ear that the redhead knew drove her crazy.

“Has anyone told you how _hot_ you look in this suit?” Nicole whispered in her ear, sending a shiver up her spine.

“You may have mentioned it a time or two.”

“The only place it would look better is on the floor,” Nicole nipped at her earlobe, letting her hands wander over the brunette’s body. “Right now, maybe.”

Waverly kicked the door closed behind the pair and turned herself around in Nicole’s arms to capture her lips in her own, escalating the kiss as the taller led their entangled bodies over to the bed. In a move of boldness, Waverly switched their positions, pushing Nicole to the bed and climbing up to straddle her. She hadn’t forgotten what Nicole had said over breakfast and wanted the woman to know that. She may be a lover, but technically she was also the boss.

Below her, she took in the sight of the gorgeous redhead, flush and breathing heavy, eager to reengage in their activities. Obliging, Waverly crashed her lips into Nicole’s again, one of her hands finding its way into the locks that were only still slightly damp from the postgame shower. They moved in sync, like they’d known each other forever; like they’d had every single millimeter memorized. She could feel the heat coursing through her body, and pushed how badly she wanted Nicole to tear the suit right off of her to the back of her mind for now, her hands moving from long hair to find the hem of a Nike Dri-fit t-shirt.

Nicole’s skin was hot against her palms, feeling her girlfriend’s toned abdominal muscles tense in anticipation, chest heaving from the way her oxygen was currently being used. A small moan escaped Nicole’s lips as the brunette’s hands roamed upward, giving a firm squeeze to one of her breasts underneath the sports bra (that Waverly couldn’t think logistically enough to find a plan off attack to get that thing _off)._ The sound, as sinful as always, allowed Waverly to maintain her dominance by slipping her tongue in between her girlfriend’s teeth.

With her hand flat against Nicole’s sternum, she found herself mesmerized by the steady pounding there that she was responsible for. She knew hers was beating just as hard, though that wasn’t the only thing pulsing through her body.

Distracted, Waverly didn’t realize she’d lost dominance, allowing Nicole to use her strength advantage to flip their positions with ease. The redhead’s hands tugged immediately on Waverly’s belt, pulling her closer and undoing it quickly. The belt was discarded onto the floor, and before she knew it, Nicole had undone the buttons of Waverly’s shirt with expert ease.

Nicole paused for a moment above her, taking in her sight before smirking mischievously and pulling off her own shirt. She leaned forward, and the way that her thigh pressed closer and closer to the heat between her legs gave Waverly goosebumps. Nicole used her advantage like Waverly had, using the space between moans to slide her tongue into her mouth.

“Can I?” As her hands found the waistline of the brunette’s pants, Nicole broke the kiss momentarily, asking for permission to escalate.

“Always.” She nodded, heart racing, chest heaving, and the throbbing between her legs growing more unbearable by the second.

Nicole resumed, finding the button of the pants and undoing the zipper, ready to remove them in one fell swoop when…

“Haught you gotta see—Oh my god!” Wynonna burst through the door (as she does).

Nicole rolled off of Waverly as the latter pulled a blanket up to cover herself even though she was still (unfortunately, _annoyingly)_ mostly clothed.

“Wynonna!” Nicole growled, hurling a pillow in the intruder’s direction, “Get out!”

Wynonna backed away, shielding her eyes and mumbling about how they needed to invest in a lock for the door as she closed it behind her.

Nicole looked back to Waverly, a mixture of love and lust in her eyes—mostly black from her fully dilated pupils, but just enough of the brown showing to be made gorgeous golden color by the light of the lamp beside them. (Easily Waverly’s favorite color).

“So,” Nicole whispered through a breathy chuckle, “where were we?”


	28. Walkin' After Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know the absolute bare minimum about the city of Winnipeg

“Haught!” Shae yelled, wide open and calling for a pass. Nicole, entering the neutral zone, sent a pass to Shae at the attacking blue line. The pass took a deflection off of a Pirate’s stick but made it through to Shae, who had to take an extra split second to settle it before entering the zone as the home team made an ill-advised line change.

Jumping into the play, Nicole gave the Devils a 3-on-2 and didn’t have to think twice before tapping Shae’s return pass between her legs and over to Wynonna. Her linemate and best friend wasted little time in snapping the puck bardown blocker side to tie the game at 2-2.

“Haught, you beauty,” Wynonna tapped her helmet against the redhead’s. “Check this out, I’ve been workshopping this one,” she held her stick like a gun, “right before I snipe one home, I just hit ‘em with a _Make your peace_.”

Nicole rolled her eyes and nudged the brunette toward the bench for fist bumps. “You’re gonna sound real stupid saying that and then getting robbed…or missing the net.”

“Not me,” Wynonna closed the bench door behind herself, “not the fastest gunslinger in the West.”

“Really? Tell me, how many goals do you have? Including that last one?”

Wynonna, bless her heart, looked like she was straining her brain to tally the number of goals she’d scored all season, and looked proudly to the speakers above the ice surface when the PA announcer’s flat voice announed:

_“Purgatory goal, her eleventh of the season, scored by number twenty-seven, Wynonna Earp, assisted by number fifteen, Nicole Haught and number eight, Shae Pressman, at seventeen twenty-two.”_

“Eleven,” Wynonna nodded proudly.

“Cop out,” Nicole gave the brunette’s shoulder a light shove and turned her attention back to the game at hand.

This two-game set in Winnipeg was crucial for the team to hang around in playoff talks. Midway through the season with their record hovering just above .500, any ground lost to conference opponents would knock them out of the wild card spot they currently held.

In the twenty-three games that Nicole had been back, she found it a lot harder to contribute at a level she knew she was capable of; the level she’d performed at before she was injured. She wasn’t an idiot, and she knew she’d probably never get fully back to that level, but the success she had in her first game might’ve tricked her into thinking it’d be easier to get back into playing than it actually was. She forced herself to sharpen her mental edge to compensate where her physical abilities seemed to come up short; forced herself to lead by example, rather than pure snap decisions and energetic bursts on the ice.

Which was more than necessary to wrangle Wynonna who was _only_ snap decisions and energetic bursts. Despite her best efforts and numerous protestations, Nicole realized that _Earps are gonna Earp,_ and Wynonna was more often than not the starter of trouble from within the team. For how skilled, and for how much of an energy source Wynonna could be for the team, there was hardly a game that went by without her taking a highly unnecessary penalty. (As of late, it had been getting on Nicole’s nerves, but she’d opted to try to push Wynonna away from trouble instead of lecturing her about her behavior).

“Hey twos!” The brunette shouted at the Pirate’s winger in the 22 sweater, “How’s the weather up there you leaf eater?”

The forward, _Myers_ , rolled her eyes and continued to skate past the bench, where Wynonna sat laughing at her own chirp.

“Get it?” She snorted, “Because she’s got a big long neck like a giraffe?”

“Hilarious.” Nicole answered flatly. The brunette had been playing well, hadn’t taken a dumb penalty through just about two periods, and the redhead wanted her to keep that streak going.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch, Red? You usually love my chirps.”

“It’s nothing, just don’t go out of your way looking for fights.”

“I’m _not,”_ Wynonna looked at her, offended. “I’m having fun. _And_ it’s part of the game, I don’t mean anything by it.”

“You better not.”

“I _don’t_.”

“Good,” Nicole nodded, still fixing her with a warning look that bordered on a glare.

“Good.”

“Fine.”

_“Fine.”_

\---

Nicole gulped down air as she dragged her feet back to the defensive zone for a faceoff following the whistle. A long shift plus an icing call left her lungs burning, and she still had to stay on the ice. She looked over to the bench, hoping Nedley would have mercy on them and use their timeout if only just to give his tired players a breather. With five minutes left in a tie game, it wouldn’t be the worst idea. Unfortunately, no such relief came, and Nicole forced herself to find another gear. Or just enough of a burst to win the draw, gain the red line, dump the puck and change.

From beside her, she heard voices and she didn’t need to look up to see who’d been involved. She knew how Wynonna’s mind worked and it was a paper-thin line between chirping in the heat of the moment and escalating into a full-on scrap.

“Quiet night in the red light district, eh two-two?” Wynonna jawed at the Pirates’ forward next to her with what could only be described as an _Earp-level_ of mischievous taunting. “Heard you were the worst player on your last team, too.”

“You’re fucking brutal,” The woman chirped back and took a quick whack at Wynonna’s shins with her stick, the two very much still squabbling the whole way toward the faceoff circle. “Who even let you out here?”

“Dude, you suck at hockey.” Wynonna gave 22 a rough shove (that bordered on cross-checking) to the shoulders, “What’re you gonna do?” _Shove._ “Huh? Nothing?” Wynonna was about to lay into the increasingly irritated Pirate forward again when Nicole stepped in and pulled her linemate away. The last thing they needed was a cheap penalty that came from lack of discipline.

“Watch it Earp,” she looked at Wynonna sternly as they crossed the blue line into their defensive zone. “We don’t need that, not right now.”

“That fucking bitch needs a lesson on respect,” the brunette grumbled, Nicole’s message having little effect on her attitude.

“Wynonna, seriously. Play the game like you how to,” she warned, hand on Wynonna’s shoulder to make sure the woman was paying attention, “not how you want to. _I mean it.”_

“Fine, dad,” she muttered under her breath and lined up next to Myers on the faceoff circle.

As Nicole expected, Wynonna continued to run her mouth, antagonizing the woman beside her. Before settling over the dot, the redhead skated over to her teammate and physically removed her from the situation. Shae filled in the slot and Wynonna huffed as Nicole placed her into the opposite wing. In such an important game, she couldn’t risk the brunette starting an altercation or taking a stupid penalty.

The referee dropped the puck between Nicole and the opposing center, Nicole tying up the woman across from her and allowing Shae to swoop in and head off to the races. Nicole followed Shae up the ice, and figured that the woman would dump the puck and get off the ice, but the captain always found a second wind when it came down to crunch time. She got the jump on one of the defenders and barreled in on goal, deking the goalie and slipping the puck five-hole.

Unfortunately, instead of an arm pointed toward the goal, signifying a score, the referee immediately waved it off. A whistle and a ruckus behind the play had been the culprit. Much to her chagrin, Nicole turned around to find Wynonna giving a rough facewash (and a cross-check for good measure) to the exact same woman she’d been chirping all night, just looking for a dance partner and coming up empty. Shae threw her head back, looking skyward in disbelief of having her go-ahead goal taken away. Nicole grit her teeth and skated to the bench as the referees locked Wynonna in the penalty box.

_“Purgatory penalty, number twenty-seven, Wynonna Earp, two minutes for unsportsmanlike conduct.”_

As luck would have it, the Devils conceded on the penalty kill, putting them behind late in the game yet again. Nedley grumbled from behind Nicole, frustrated at the results of the game, using every ounce of his restraint not to snap a clipboard over his knee.

Nicole fumed at Wynonna’s recklessness long after the game ended and Nedley’s eerily flat speech—not even bothering to give the “I’m not mad, just disappointed” talk. He was mad and they knew it. He didn’t need to raise his voice or whip himself up for everyone to get the message.

She fumed all the way up to the hotel room that, of course— _of course_ —she was sharing with Wynonna for this part of the trip. In the room, she readied herself for bed in silence, not trusting herself to _not_ go off on the brunette. She wasn’t sure words could capture the way she felt about Wynonna’s seemingly constant and blatant disregard for what the team needed in clutch moments, and she didn’t want to say something she knew she’d regret. 

She loved Wynonna, really, but she should’ve known that working with your best friend—even if you job is literally playing games—wasn’t always going to be fun and easy.

“So what? You’re gonna ignore me?” Wynonna asked when forty minutes of silent treatment became too much. Nicole made a show of rolling over in bed, facing herself away from the woman. “Real mature. What’re you seven?” The redhead flicked off the bedside lamp and burrowed herself deeper into the bed. Wynonna had really _Earped_ this one up, and it was gonna take more than a minute for Nicole to get over it. “Fine, be that way.”

Wynonna turned out her own light, and Nicole sighed to herself.

\---

Whether it was residual rage or a twinge of guilt for not voicing her obvious concerns with Wynonna, Nicole found herself awake somewhere just after 1 AM.

She half-expected to hear the brunette snoring like a chainsaw from the bed adjacent to hers, but found the room deafeningly silent. She rolled over, feeling her way around for her phone to turn on the flashlight. Wynonna’s bed was empty (as she could’ve assumed), the sheets barely touched.

“Wynonna?” She called out to the empty room. Maybe she’d been in the en suite bathroom. “Wynonna?”

When she got no answer, she begrudgingly pulled back her sheets and got herself out of bed. Using the light from her phone to illuminate the room, she made her way over to the bathroom to see the door open, light off and it completely empty.

 _So…definitely not in the room—after curfew no less,_ Nicole huffed, returning to the main room.

Wynonna’s sneakers weren’t next to the TV stand like they had been before Nicole fell asleep, and her phone was absent from the charger. Nicole knew her best friend, so really, she had to kick herself for thinking the brunette would obey the team’s rules for an _entire_ season (or even for an entire road trip).

 _Maybe she’d snuck out to Doc’s room down the hall,_ she thought, _but why bring her sneakers?_ Or her coat, which she now realized was also missing.

“Goddamnit Earp,” she mumbled under her breath as she found Wynonna’s contact on her phone, waiting for the call to connect. _Comeoncomeoncomeon_ ran frantically through her head with each dial tone. She might still be pissed at Wynonna for the outcome of the game, but she was still her friend and was still responsible for her roommate.

 _“Oh now you wanna talk,”_ Wynonna’s voice came flatly across the line, albeit over the thumping of loud music in the background.

“Where are you?”

_“Why would I tell you? I’m a grown adult.”_

“Wynonna, seriously, it’s way past curfew,” Nicole pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re gonna get in trouble if you get caught.”

 _“You’re talking to the queen of getting in trouble,”_ the brunette scoffed. _“I think I’ll manage.”_

The redhead groaned and sighed exasperatedly. Why her best friend had to be such an _Earp_ , she’d never know, but it certainly was a pain in her ass. “Seriously Wynonna, come on. You need to come back to the hotel before there’s serious problems.”

 _“Nuh-uh,”_ Wynonna tutted.

“Earp, I swear to God, if you don’t come back on your own, I’m gonna find you and drag you back here myself.”

 _“See you soon then, Deputy Tightass,”_ Wynonna snickered, _“Good luck finding me.”_

Nicole heard the line disconnect before she could voice her protest.

She threw on her own sneakers and grabbed her jacket and beanie, opening FindMyFriends on her phone.

_Wynonna Earp stopped sharing her location at 1:39 AM._

“Wynonna,” she narrowed her eyes at the screen, locking the device and stuffing it into her pocket and stomping toward the door.

She was careful not to slam the door to draw attention to herself. Wynonna was probably already going to get in trouble for being out past curfew, and she didn’t need to risk adding herself to the list before even apprehending the brunette.

After riding the elevator down to the main floor, Nicole slipped out past the half-asleep front desk attendant and into the frigid Manitoba night air. She fought to keep her teeth from chattering when the first gust of wind blew past her and sent a shiver up her spine. Burrowing her hands into her pocket, she trudged over to one of the bars near the hotel, figuring that was her best bet.

Walking into a place called _The Glory...Hole_ (?), Nicole felt like she was walking into some post-Apocolyptic Euro Trash nightmare. Definitely not Wynonna’s scene, but a bar is a bar is a bar (and an Earp is an Earp is an Earp). The redhead looked around the crowd that seemed a little too thick for a place so close to closing time on a Sunday— _technically Monday,_ she supposed.

“Earp?” She called, pushing past people giving her strange looks. “Wynonna?”

She searched the place high and low, looking for the familiar face of the brunette, but came up empty. The only face she even remotely recognized was the performer on stage called “Portia Control”, a woman who looked maybe a little too much like Mercedes Gardner.

Either her best friend was the world’s greatest hider, or the woman wasn’t here. Both of them, Nicole quickly realized, were equally possible. Nonetheless, she gave up on finding Wynonna in the _Glory Hole_ and ducked back outside. There was another bar back in the opposite direction and she braved the cold in hopes of finding Wynonna.

The second bar was a more traditional looking bar, a little fancier than Shorty’s but nowhere near as over-the-top as the last latrine she’d visited. She pushed on the door, instantly feeling the relief of getting out of the cold. The bar itself was empty save for a lone bartender drying off the last of the night’s glasses.

“Sorry, we’re actually closing up,” the man, who looked a lot like what she imagined her uncle John would look like with a few extra years of age on his face, said looking up from his work.

“Right, sorry,” she rubbed at her arms and pulled her beanie tighter over her ears, turning back outside, disappointed to have struck out yet again.

“Hold on, why do I get the suspicion you’re not lookin’ for a drink?”

She paused in the doorway and sighed. “I’m looking for my friend. We’re staying at the hotel right across the street, but she kinda snuck out and that usually means she’s off to a bar.”

“I know plenty of those,” the man gave a knowing smile, “have you tried the _Hole?”_

She chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah I have.”

“I take it she wasn’t there.”

Nicole nodded.

“Nope. I thought that I was onto something when I walked in there—there was music thumping over the line when I talked to her on the phone. But it was more Country Rock than European Disco.”

The bartender nodded as he dried off another glass. “Mhm, I gotcha. You know, there’s another joint a few kilometers up the road,” he explained. “Guy named Jonas runs the place, usually keeps it open long past he’s supposed to, but hardly anyone ever bats an eye. That might be your best bet.”

“How do I get there?” She nodded, already bouncing toward the door. The quicker she found Wynonna, the quicker she could kick her ass and get them back to the hotel without anyone finding out.

“Head east on this road ‘til you see the YMCA, then take a right and it should be right up on your left.”

“Thank you sir,” Nicole said, bracing herself for the cold.

“No problem, Red,” he nodded to her, “and please, call me John.”

Nicole smiled at his name and exited the bar.

If possible, it had gotten colder since she entered the bar. The wind had picked up, causing her eyes to water as she walked off toward where she _really_ hoped Wynonna was. She pulled up her hood and squeezed it closer to her face in a feeble attempt to protect her skin from the frigid air.

Walking three kilometers in the warmth of daylight was already not an ideal situation, but the walk felt twice as long in the cold of a Winnipeg January midnight. Her teeth chattered and her fingertips froze even through the balling of her fists in her pocket. (She was almost certain that her anger at Wynonna was the only thing keeping her from dying of frostbite).

She walked down the road that John had instructed her to, the worry of going the wrong way growing with each step. (She made note of a quaint looking antiques shop that she definitely would need to visit when it opened—a twinkling emerald catching her eye). The worry abated when she found the YMCA on the corner of the street, and turned right on the path. Three quarters of the way up the block, she found a beat-up building—the biker-type bar looking mostly out of place in the area.

If Wynonna wasn’t here, she thought, she’d just Uber her way back to the hotel and let the brunette handle her own problems for once.

Nicole heard the music from the background of her call with Wynonna and had a good feeling she was finally in the right place. From the doorway she saw a clock on the nearby wall (just above a sign that read: “ _PLEASE DO NOT THROW CIGARETTE BUTTS IN URINAL. IT MAKES THEM SOGGY AND HARD TO LIGHT.”_ Classy). 2:39 AM. _Fantastic._

She scanned the room looking for her (unfortunately) best friend among the crowd of guys in biker jackets and bandanas, eyes landing on the brunette lining up a shot at the pool table far in the back of the room. Nicole marched her way over to the woman determinedly, her body numb from the cold but her head hot as ever.

“ _Wynonna. Earp!”_ Her voice was a sound she didn’t even know she was capable of making. Like the voice of a demon bubbling out from within her.

The brunette faltered on her shot, sending the cue ball straight into the pocket as she snapped her head up at the sound of her name.

“Congrats, you found m—”

Nicole wound up and socked Wynonna straight in the face.

“What the fuck was that for?” The brunette straightened herself up, visibly irritated and brandishing the cue menacingly to keep Nicole away from her.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Nicole growled, aware she was causing a scene but too enraged to care.

“What do you care?”

“I care that you think you’re above _every single_ rule,” her words came through gritted teeth, ducking away from Wynonna swinging the cue at her.

The small crowd of late-night bar patrons had started to gather around the pair; she heard one of the onlookers yell, “ _Oh shit! Chick fight!”_

“Oh yeah? Well maybe I’m sick of you _following_ every single rule,” she said, voice level but clearly inflamed. She swung the cue again at Nicole.

“God, I am _so sick_ of your attitude,” she reached over to grab a stick from the stand on the wall, yelping when she felt her hand snatched roughly.

She felt herself being dragged away before being physically thrown out of the back door of the bar, Wynonna landing beside her with a thud.

“I don’t need you fuckin’ bitches causing trouble in my bar,” the owner spat, slamming the door behind him.

“Way to go, Ginger Spice,” Wynonna fumed from the ground next to her.

“No, no, no, _you_ don’t get to be mad at _me.”_

“Why not?” The older woman crossed her arms. “You’re the one who started the bar fight that got us thrown out.”

“You’re the one who was at the bar in the first place,” Nicole snapped. “God, tell me you at least weren’t drinking.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I do follow some rules. Of course I wasn’t drinking, I’m not an idiot.”

“If you were really that smart you wouldn’t have snuck out of the hotel in the first place. Jesus, Wynonna what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that you,” she glared hard at Nicole, “were pissing me off and I needed to blow off steam.”

Nicole paused. “Hold on, _I_ was pissing _you_ off?”

Wynonna nodded.

“Need I remind you that you were the one who couldn’t control herself enough to listen to me when I told you to stay out of trouble?”

“If you knew me like you seem to think you do, you’d know that telling me to stay out of trouble only tempts me more.” Nicole bit her tongue and sat herself up on the freezing gravel of the back parking lot. “Got nothing to say to that, do ya, Red? I know following every single rule is kind of your thing, but you don’t have to be such a stuck-up bitch about it, Haught.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Nicole snapped.

“I’m talking about the way you act like I’m this incapable moron.” Wynonna spat, flinging a pebble in Nicole’s direction. “You might as well have dragged me away by the ear from that faceoff before. Do you realize how embarrassing that looks for me?”

“Well maybe if I could trust you to _listen_ when someone tells you to stay away from a fight, I wouldn’t have to take matters into my own hands.”

“I’m not a child, Nicole!”

“You sure seem to act like one out there on the ice,” she chided.

“And you seem to act like you think you’re better than everyone just because you follow every rule to a T,” Wynonna dusted herself off as she stood, “God, I would’ve kicked your ass in high school, you fuckin’ square.”

Nicole, still on the ground, watched Wynonna storm off in the opposite direction of the hotel, down toward a dirt path and a wooded area.

“Where are you going, Earp?” She shouted. Wynonna never broke stride, never turned back as she put more and more distance between her and the redhead.

Feeling the gravel sting her palms as she pushed herself to her feet, Nicole drew her coat tighter to her body and jogged to catch up to the angered woman. Wynonna shrugged Nicole’s hand roughly off her shoulder when the redhead tried to turn her around.

“What part of me angrily storming off don’t you get?”

“Wynonna. We have practice in…” she paused to check her phone, a few minutes before 3 AM, “six hours. We need to get back to the hotel. And Sheriff’s gonna kill us if he finds out we’re out after curfew.”

“So go back to the hotel then, Little Miss Teacher’s Pet,” Wynonna continued to walk away, kicking the rocks on the path in front of her, “I’ll be fine.”

“What about Dolls? I’m not gonna let you get in trouble for breaking team rules,” she tried again, knowing that this violation was deserving of a benching at the very least.

Wynonna stopped walking, turning around to face Nicole. “Okay, one,” she held up a finger, “worry about yourself, Haught. I don’t need a babysitter, and even if I did _you_ sure as hell wouldn’t be it. And two: I think I can handle Dolls, he doesn’t scare me.”

“Oh yeah?” Nicole probed; Wynonna nodded in challenge. “What about Waverly?”

The redhead bit back a smirk when she saw the face of the woman in front of her falter.

“Fine,” Wynonna grumbled and rolled her eyes, pushing her way past Nicole and back toward where they just came from. “Keep your distance, I’m still pissed at you.”

“Where the hell do you get off on being pissed at me?” Nicole unrooted herself from her spot as she shouted after the brunette leading them onto a bridge that crossed the river running through the city. “You’re not the one who spent more than an hour walking around this city searching for you after you snuck out.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t you call a taxi or something? An Uber? Lyft? Hitchhike?” Wynonna listed, “C’mon Nicole, you’re a smart-ish girl.”

Nicole supposed it was a bit idiotic to walk when she had so many means of transportation readily available, but her blind rage at the brunette and the early hour had clouded her judgement.

“I don’t know, but let’s call one now, I’m freezing,” she concluded.

“Can’t. Phone’s dead,” Wynonna shrugged, wiggling her device in her hand for emphasis. “Gimme yours, Haught.”

The brunette reached for Nicole’s pocket just as the redhead was pulling her phone out. The pair fought over the phone like dogs playing with a rope, grumbling at each other as they battled for dominance in the stalemate. Wynonna let go as Nicole pulled especially hard, her momentum sending her flying onto the ground and the phone soaring out of her hands.

Her life had become something of a sitcom since befriending the oldest Earp, so much to her dismay (but not surprise) her device flew over the side of the bridge, leaving the pair to watch it fall into the river with a splash. Nicole glared hard at Wynonna as she rubbed at her shoulder, sore from colliding with the ground and the railing of the bridge, just noticing her beanie had fallen casualty to the incident too. 

“Way to go, Earp.”

“Don’t blame this on me, you’re the one who yote your phone into the river,” Wynonna shrugged. Nicole glared harder—so much so that she wasn’t sure if the headache forming around her temples was from the antics of the brunette or from furrowing her brow so strongly and frequently. “ _Yeeted?_ God, what is the past tense of yeet?”

“Wynonna?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” Nicole spat. “Seriously? You owe me a phone, you idiot—and that was our only way of getting back quickly.”

“Looks like we’re walkin’ then. At least we’re getting our steps in.”

“I hope no one’s ever told you you’re funny,” Nicole accepted the hand that Wynonna offered, standing herself up and smoothing out her jacket.

“And I hope no one’s ever told you those pants are fashionable,” the brunette snickered at Nicole’s pajama pants—purple bottoms spangled with rainbow unicorns. A Christmas present from Waverly.

“Sorry I didn’t have time to get dressed up to the nines to go out and find you,” Nicole rolled her eyes.

The two walked, mostly quiet, save for throwing harmless jabs at each other every now and then to pass the time. The bridge over the river gave way back into the path through the wooded area and Wynonna, despite literally never being to the city before, _swore_ she knew the way back to the hotel. Nicole couldn’t protest, losing her bearings in the darkness of the night and the unfamiliar terrain. She supposed that leaving Wynonna Earp to be her navigator was her own punishment from the universe for being out when she wasn’t supposed to.

Just as Wynonna informed her that they were close to making it back to a main road, they heard a rustle from the trees beside them that caused them both to freeze in fear. The noise stopped momentarily, and they picked up their pace on the path, wanting to get back to the warmth and safety of their room. The rustling came again. Whatever the source was, it was following them.

“If you’re planning to jump us, I’m warning you,” Wynonna shouted, brandishing her keys as a weapon despite shoving Nicole between herself and the noise.

“Yeah, this one here may be small,” Nicole added, wincing as Wynonna slapped her on the arm, “but she won’t hesitate to kick your ass.”

The rustling grew louder and the pair clung to each other in fear as if somehow the contact would teleport them away to safety. From the bushes, the culprit sprung out, earning itself a pair of blood-curdling screams from the athletes. Wynonna shoved Nicole off of her and sprinted away from the raccoon who scampered off, paying no mind to the ridiculous-looking women.

Nicole groaned as she regained her bearings, feeling the fresh scratches from the dry branches of the bush the furry fright came from. “Ah, fuck,” she hissed, knowing her face was probably just as cut up as her hands were now. As she tried to stand (and regain her dignity from being pushed face first into a bush), her hair snagged on the twigs, tugging painfully against her scalp. “Uh, Wynonna? You still there?”

She heard the brunette’s steps shuffle over to her and her cackling start up. “Looks like you’re in quite the _sticky_ situation there, Haught Stuff.”

“Wynonna,” she grumbled, aware of how stupid she looked, “just get me out of here, Jesus.”

The brunette obliged, though did it less gracefully than Nicole would’ve hoped. _Maybe just ripping herself away would’ve been easier,_ she thought to herself as Wynonna pulled and tugged on the hair tangled in leaves and twigs.

“There you go,” Wynonna patted her friend on the back once she’d completed her extraction.

“Thanks,” she sighed, adrenaline rushing through her veins from the raccoon attack distracting her from the subzero temperatures. “Let’s skip-a-doodle out of here, yeah?”

Wynonna nodded, mumbling something about her _stupid bumper sticker voice_ just barely audible to Nicole. They double-timed it off the path, and lo and behold, Wynonna had led them back to something Nicole recognized. They were close to the hotel now, which she was thankful for, the time most likely nearing four in the morning by now. They were going to be miserable and exhausted for practice, but with any luck that would be the only consequence of the night’s (morning’s) escapades.

“Nicole?” Wynonna spoke up as they turned onto the road where the hotel was.

“Mhm?”

She looked over to her best friend who, now that she could see her under the light of the streetlamps, was sporting a nice shiner. The redhead ran her hand over the knuckles on her right hand, maybe a little guilt creeping in for swinging on the woman like she had.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” she apologized kicking a flattened aluminum can that had blown into their path. “And for blowing the game like I did.”

“I’m not gonna say it’s alright,” Nicole put her arm around her friend, “because _alright_ usually doesn’t involved getting thrown out of bars and getting attacked by raccoons,” she earned herself a smile from the brunette. “But everybody screws up sometimes, so don’t beat yourself up about it, alright?”

“Yeah yeah,” Wynonna mumbled. “I’m sorry I flipped on you for being a tight-ass, rule follower. You’re admittedly a little bossy for my taste, but I _guess_ you’re just looking out for me.”

“You’re too good of a player to throw it away on stupid penalties,” she addressed the brunette genuinely. “You don’t have to be a goon, Wynonna—you’re better than that.”

Wynonna looked up at her with a soft smile, appreciative. “You know I hate to half-ass things. When I get pissed off in a game, it’s hard to just stop it. Sometimes I go overboard,” she shrugged, “sometimes instead of half-assing it, I ass-and-a-half it.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” the redhead laughed, reaching for the hotel door. “But I guess you’re _my_ ass, and I’m stuck with you.”

Wynonna snickered an “Is that some sort of lesbian thing?” as Nicole pulled open the door and motioned the brunette aside. The redhead shook her head and rolled her eyes at her best friend, pressing the elevator button for their floor.

Part of Nicole thought they might just get away with sneaking out. As far as she knew, no one would suspect a thing and as long as they were quiet in the hallway as they returned to their room, it could be like nothing ever even happened. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she dug around in her pocket for the key card to the room. In her rush, she hadn’t even thought to bring it with her.

“Do you have your key?” She whispered to Wynonna, somewhere just below panic.

“No,” Wynonna shook her head, “My plan was for you to be in the room when I got back, so I didn’t bring it.”

“So, your plan to sneak out undetected involved you waking me when you snuck back in?” She whisper-yelled.

“Waverly’s the planner, not me,” the brunette defended.

“Okay, fine, whatever. Just stay here, I’ll run down to the front desk and get a new key, oka—”

Nicole stopped herself short at the sound of the door to their room opening, revealing a tired- but mostly angry-looking Waverly Earp standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

 _Oh, to be a third party observing the scene from the outside,_ something buried deep in Nicole’s consciousness chirped, _you two probably look like two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar._

Nicole opened her mouth to greet her girlfriend. Waverly held a finger up to stop her before she even got the chance.

“Don’t. I don’t wanna hear whatever excuses you two idiots have,” she stared them down, shooing them into the room. “Sit down. You’re two are in trouble.” Wynonna and Nicole obeyed the smaller woman’s order, sitting stiffly on their individual beds. “I had a feeling you guys were up to something. My _Wynonna Senses_ were tingling more than usual.”

From beside her, Wynonna smirked but immediately wiped it off of her face after Waverly’s warning look.

“Because of my suspicions, I called you,” Waverly pointed at her sister, “only to get your voicemail. So I called _you_ ,” she now pointed at Nicole, who frowned and swallowed nervously. “I was _not_ happy that you sent me straight to voicemail _four_ different times, so I marched down here, only to find not a single trace of my dumbass sister and her idiot best friend. I could’ve expected this from you, ‘Nonna, but _you_ Nicole? Really?”

“In my defense,” Nicole dared to speak up despite the _doghouse_ daggers Waverly was shooting at her, “my phone is currently floating down the Assiniboine River.”

This, she should’ve expected, did not help her case in the eyes of her girlfriend who only stared at them even more incredulously.

“You know what,” Waverly took a deep breath to steady herself before she exploded on the pair at quarter past four in the morning, “I don’t even wanna know. I don’t want or need to know any of the details of your _idiotic_ shenanigans, just answer me one question,” she paused to make sure the two were listening, “Did you really think you weren’t gonna get caught?”

Nicole shifted her eyes across to where Wynonna sat on the bed. The pair shook their heads simultaneously.

“I mean seriously, look at you two. You look like you got into a bar fight,” she waved her hand at Wynonna, “and you look like you got into a fight with a shrub,” she waved toward Nicole. Nicole hadn’t seen herself but could imagine wild red hair and a face littered with scratches.

“I’m so sorry, Waverly, we didn’t mean to,” Nicole pleaded. “Right, Wynonna?”

“Yeah, seriously. So sorry we’re idiots.” 

Waverly huffed, exhausted not just from the current hour. “I don’t need your sorries. You guys broke curfew, that’s a big deal. That affects the team,” her words were as stern as they’d been throughout the whole lecture. “I’ll be able to make sure you guys don’t get forcibly benched by Dolls,” Nicole and Wynonna sighed in relief, “but your asses better try to get _some_ sleep, because Nedley’s gonna make you two skate ‘til you puke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love love love me some Wynaught, obvs. 
> 
> I've loved writing this story and appreciate everyone who's taken the time to read the rambling misadventures of our favorite misfits. I'm looking to find the best way to wrap this thing up that'll do the journey justice :)


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